


It's All Up for Interpretation

by Itsagoodthing (itzagoodthing)



Series: You're Not in This Alone [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brain Injury, Caretaking, Din is a good dad, Fluffy softness, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I can't avoid it any longer, M/M, Major Character Injury, Paz struggles with air rage, Paz takes good care of them both, Permanent Injury, The helmets come off, These two are getting together, Things are heating up, baby/parent feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzagoodthing/pseuds/Itsagoodthing
Summary: After they leave the market, something happens that will make Din rethink his interpretation of the creed. He doesn't want to, doesn't feel right about it, but damn it if Paz isn't making some compelling points. Tags have changed. Give them a look and make sure this is still your jam.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Series: You're Not in This Alone [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867132
Comments: 110
Kudos: 511





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably one of the least edited pieces I've posted. I'm going to go back in the morning and look at it with a fresh eye. In the meantime, I'm apologizing now for any glaring mistakes you might find. Just try to squint through it. In case you missed it in the summary: Tags have changed. Give them a look and make sure this is still your jam. 
> 
> Gifted to POTFFAN. If it wasn't for our little whumpfest, this never would have happened. Thank you for the prompt.

* * *

It took Paz a while to get them off-world after the market. Traffic was picking up as everyone started closing down for the day making it necessary to wait his turn before he could lift the _Crest_ into the sky.

It gave Paz a front-row seat to watch the shit show going down. Breathing out a deep sigh, he scowled at the cluster of _di’kute_ having a race to get nowhere. “You know if everyone would just let in one ship—”

Glowering at the piece of crap spacecraft that cut him off, Paz dropped his gaze, eyeing the trigger switch to the twin guns. “Lucky for you, _shabuir_...” the Mandalorian grumbled while finally pulling the ship into the sky, “...we’re trying to keep a low profile.” 

Leaving the blue skies of Dantooine behind, Paz flew them through the atmosphere until they were among the stars. He was looking over at the Nav computer when the baby began to fuss down below. Glancing toward the open cockpit doors, he picked up Din’s voice murmuring after the child’s cries. Things quieted after a moment and Paz turned back to the computer.

With all the traffic going off-world, it took a sizable chunk of time before the ship’s computer found them a hyperspace lane. With the swirling tunnel of white mirroring off his blackout visor, Paz set the autopilot and stood from the captain’s seat, taking a moment to stretch out the tightness burning through his shoulders and neck. Paz pulled his arm across his chest. Gripping the elbow, he dropped the shoulder and groaned through the release. 

The lingering silence from below drew his curiosity toward the ladder. Stretching out his other shoulder, he walked toward it before going down to check on things. Approaching the compact galley area, he stopped and stood while taking in the scene before him.

Laying on the floor stripped of his armor and curled up with the bedding he’d just purchased an hour prior were Din, the baby, and a squadron of stuffed frogs. Cocking his head, Paz wondered if the frogs’ position had been accidental or not. Maybe it was just the decades he’d spent in the Mandalorian army, but to him it looked like they were holding a perimeter around the sleeping duo.

Was it just him, or was the child possibly cluing into something that might be coming their way?

Paz had enough experience with children to know you never take their insights for granted. Logic and skepticism don’t impress upon the mind of a child as they do adults. That leaves them wide-open for a different kind of intuition that adults tend to close themselves off to. Add in a child with special abilities... well, then you’ve got yourself a whole new set of rules. 

He made a mental note to double-check their flight patterns and to talk to Din about it later.

Switching his focus from frogs to Mandalorian, Paz scoffed. It figured Djarin would break in his new stuff before he got the chance. Shaking his head at the pile on the floor, Paz took a giant step over the mound and entered the galley to make another cup of instacaff—that one for himself.

He was pulling the cup from the nanowave as an alarm on his bracer started trilling. Quick to silence it, he shot a look over at the puddle of blankets and stuffies waiting for either the child or warrior to surface. Drained from the day’s excitement, neither moved nor made a peep, and Paz looked at the reason behind the alarm. It was a reminder for Din’s corticosteroid medication.

Steaming cup of caff in hand, Paz walked to stand over him.

“You awake, _beroya?”_

Din didn’t so much as flinch, and Paz debated over whether or not to wake him.

They’d been like clockwork with his meds since leaving Nevarro. While he’d been good about taking them, Din sometimes complained about how groggy they made him. Paz felt it was a legitimate grievance considering the muscle relaxant, the anticonvulsant, and pain medication all had sedating side effects.

Luckily, the anticonvulsant was the only one of the three Din needed on a regular schedule. It left him groggy but functional. When he needed the other two, however, he got knocked on his ass for the day. Which, in a messed up kind of way—not all bad.

Din needed the rest. Desperately. 

Now, taking another look at Din and how comfortable he seemed snuggled up with his kid, Paz didn’t have the heart to disturb him. Out of all the meds Din was on, the anti-inflammatory was the safest to push back. It wouldn’t be a big deal if they missed a dose by a couple of hours. Decision made, Paz put down his caff on the table to set a new reminder. Then, taking one last look at his charges, he grabbed his drink and took it up to the cockpit with him

Looking at the pilot’s seat, Paz set down his cup before he took a page from Din’s book and started peeling off pieces of his armor. Traveling through hyperspace for the next six hours, there wasn’t any reason to keep it on. He wasn’t getting any younger and thinking of how his shoulders would thank him, it became too tempting to resist. 

Paz removed his cuirass, pauldrons, and vambraces, setting it all on a jumpseat before pulling off his gloves. Rolling his head and shoulders around a few times, he grabbed his caff and settled into the pilot’s seat as he pulled up one of the programs he’d set to download from Din’s holonet.

He was halfway through his second episode of _Twi’lek Shore_ when he heard the baby fussing. Waiting, he heard Din saying something. A moment later, the baby settled. Figuring Din had things under control, he went back to his show.

It wasn’t much later, right around the time a Twi’lek named Ajue picked a fight with a female Zabrak over how long she’d been staring at her partner when noise from the lower deck started up again. Paz leaned forward and tapped the unit, pausing the transmission. Frowning, he turned and looked past the open doors to the cockpit and listened.

The baby again. He wasn’t crying, but he was working up to it, and Paz waited. The fussing simmered down for a bit before starting up again. Fussing louder, the child began crying. He was still carrying on as Paz remembered Din’s warning about the sugar-induced meltdown that could be in store for them.

Frowning harder at how the kid was really going at it, Paz got up. Going to the ladder, he called down.

“Everything under control down there...?” He waited. “Din?”

Din didn’t answer but the baby ran into view. Reaching for him, his small frame jolted from the sobbing hiccups rolling through him. _Where the hell was Din?_ A really bad fucking feeling churned in his stomach as Paz swung himself onto the ladder. 

Careful of the child at the bottom, Paz dropped down and scooped him up. Clutching his shirt, the baby wrenched himself in his hold, shrieking through his crying spell as he pointed at the pile of bedding on the floor. Rushing for it, Paz tried soothing the kid. He could fucking hear the wheezing breaths Din was taking before he ever laid eyes on him.

“Din, hey. Hey, _verd_ _...”_ Paz spoke softly as he knelt beside him. Pulling the blankets away, he found Din on his back and completely fucking locked up. Setting the baby down, Paz let the kid run for his _buir_ as he laid hands over Din’s frame, assessing where the episode of spasticity was afflicting him most. 

Fractured, pained grunts punched through Din’s vocoder. He tried saying something, but it got cut off with a choked squeak. A low, frustrated groan got directed his way.

“Okay, Din. It’s okay, _vod,”_ Paz rambled words of comfort as he pulled off Din’s cowl and tossed it aside. His mind was whirling, trying to remember everything Lant told him about helping Din through an episode like this.

Paz had been in battle countless times throughout his life. He’s been pinned down with no visible way out. He’s held the line when there was no more line to hold. He didn’t mind saying he was a damned rock when it came to conquering and warfare. It was utterly stupid to him how he’d owned all those life-threatening moments, only to have his hands fucking shake now while working the catches on Din’s brace.

Slipping his hand under Din’s waist, he told himself to get a fucking grip as he lifted just enough to ease out the back brace. Setting it aside, he frowned in concentration. Laying careful hands over Din’s neck, Paz prayed he wasn’t using too much pressure as he began to massage the rigid muscles spasming beneath his touch.

A soft, lonesome coo came from the baby, and Paz looked at him. Keeping both his little arms wrapped around one of Din’s wrists, he kept looking up at Paz with this expression that begged him to just make it stop already.

“It’s okay, _ad’ika,”_ reassured Paz. “ _Buir’s_ okay. It’s okay.”

Saying those things, Paz didn’t know how he expected the kid to believe him while Din was lying before them, making some pretty terrible gasping noises.

Deciding that breathing trumped speaking, Paz moved his hands from Din’s neck and targeted his chest. There, the muscles there weren’t spasming as much as they were just fucking locked down. Lant had talked about how spastic episodes could impede the chest from expanding, making breathing difficult. Sometimes oxygen was needed. They had the oxygen, but Paz didn’t think they were there quite yet. Plus, there was the helmet issue that complicated things further.

_The helmet issue._

Paz sighed to himself.

He’d been planning on talking to Din about it. First though, he needed to figure out how exactly he was going to do that. At the very least, the conversation had the potential to be a volatile one and he wanted to have all his points well-rehearsed in his mind before launching into it. That’s what he wanted. It appeared that life didn’t see the logic in his plan as a wheeze started trailing Din’s breaths. Suddenly that talk was about to happen a hell of a lot sooner than Paz had anticipated. 

Frowning harder behind the black glass of his helm, Paz considered how speaking wasn’t possible for Din right then. Even if his throat weren’t shutting down his vocal cords, he wouldn’t have the air to push out words anyway with so much tightness and pressure in his chest. Moving his fingers enough to signal yes or no, thank Issik always seemed to remain an option for him.

Paz grabbed Din’s hands. They felt too cold, and he engulfed them into his grip as he eased into a conversation he didn’t feel wholly equipped for.

“Din, listen. This is a bad fucking attack. It’s giving you some serious breathing problems. The massaging isn’t working. It’s not easing the rigidity as it should, and you’re already topped off on any meds that might help.” Paz leaned in and spoke calmly, “You need your helmet off, _vod.”_

Employing the verbal workaround established between Din and the medic, he expected it when the fingers on Din’s left hand twitched in his grip, telling him in no uncertain terms: NO. 

Paz leaned over him more, “I know. Alright? I know, but just hear me out. Removing your helmet... it won’t mean you’re _dar’manda_ —”

Din grunted as his left hand jerked, then tightened. There came a choked off gasp, and Paz shook his head. “Listen. The _Resol’nare_. The six actions that define us and bind us to the creed. Din, nowhere in those Actions does it say to hide your face.”

Splintered breathing grated through the speaker in Din’s helmet. He didn’t react and Paz thought he was getting through to him. Then his left hand moved in his again. Cursing, Paz dropped his grip to resume working on Din’s chest. He didn’t know how Din stood it. Muscles taut, they allowed him hardly enough movement to breathe and Paz pressed on.

“Din, you need the helmet off. You probably need some fucking oxygen.” He sighed, “Look, I’ve been thinking hard about my own interpretation of the creed. In my time under the helm, I’ve come across other Mandalorians with beliefs different from what we’d been taught. They’ve made some very compelling points. Come on, Din. Let me help you.”

A strained sound that Paz couldn’t understand pushed from Din’s throat. He couldn’t make out any words but still knew Din was disagreeing. 

Looking straight at him, Paz offered, “Here. I’ll go first.”

Din couldn’t move. His muscles were locked down so tight he couldn’t speak—he was struggling even to _breathe_. Still, when Paz reached for the blue of his helm, Din managed an unintelligible shout as his body made a stuttered kind of jump beside him. His head shook with a scarce movement, and Paz touched his shoulder.

“It’s okay, _verd_. This is won’t be the first time I’ve taken it off in front of someone.”

Grating breaths sawed in and out through the filter in Din’s helmet as he became still beside him and Paz could just imagine the look of abject horror on the younger man’s face.

He assured one more time, “Breathe, Din. It’s okay.” Then he pulled off his helm.

If Din was struggling to breathe before, he was absolutely panicked now.

Paz resumed working the rigid muscles, stressing softly, “It’s _okay_ , Din. The Actions say nothing about not removing our helms.” Din was still panting with sharp, fractured breaths as Paz spoke to him, “And, think about this. We remove our helms for our family. Right?"

Reaching for Din’s hands, he asked again, “Right?”

A few fingers on Din’s right hand curled around his and Paz smiled down at him. The tension in Din’s frame loosened a little. It had him wondering if there was something about seeing a compassionate expression versus just blackout glass and cold steel that had a way of easing pain and suffering. There had to be. 

Keeping his expression sympathetic, Paz continued, “We grew up with the notion drilled into our heads that family bonds reach beyond blood. Right?”

Din’s right hand stuttered around his.

“Okay, Din. Like it or not, we’re family. We have been since we were kids. Let me help you."

Din didn’t respond. Shaky punched breaths filled the silent hull. The baby was settling but still sniveling, and Paz pulled the ultimate trump card. “Your kid needs you to be okay, Din. You need the helm off. Give me the okay, or I swear I’ll fucking adopt you here and now, then pull it off.”

He could be imagining things, maybe a bit of wishful thinking, but Paz swore one of those fractured gasps coming from behind Din’s helmet sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Grinning down at him, he squeezed Din’s hands. “We’re family, man. _Aliit_. Let me help you.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Din’s gasps were spreading too far apart, and Paz was legitimately about to recite the adoption rite... but then Din’s right hand slowly squeezed around his grip.

Paz’s eyes bore down against the black of Din’s visor. “Yes? Are you telling me yes?” Din’s fingers tightened around Paz’s hand again. It had less strength, but it was there. Din was giving his consent, and Paz nodded in understanding. 

Moving purposefully, he reached for the catch beneath the lip of silver beskar. Flicking it to the side, a soft hiss filled the silence between them.

Placing his hands on either side of the helmet, Paz started pulling it from Din’s head.

Trimmed, dark facial hair appeared as Din’s chin came into view, then the rest of his face as Paz adjusted his grip on the helm to catch the back of Din’s head as the helmet came off. He was setting it down beside them as the baby rushed forward and threw his arms around Din’s jaw, his little claws landing on his cheeks as he pressed his face against his _buir._

Pain was the first thing Paz read in Din’s expression. Eyes closed tight, the way his features pulled over a perpetually tight grimace told Paz how much he was still suffering. Massaging his chest again, Paz thought the air Din was moving already seemed to be a bit better. It certainly sounded better. No matter how used you were to the helmet, breathing clean, open air always felt like a treat.

Din cracked open his eyes and his soft brown gaze landed on him. The suffering in his eyes shone just as much there as on his face and Paz shot him a look of empathy, talking as he kept working the rigid tissues.

“Hold tight, _vod._ Just breathe. Keep trying to relax and it’ll pass quicker.”

The _beroya’s_ arm jerked beside him. His eyes closed on a hard grunt, and Paz started rubbing on the muscles of his shoulders and arms. “Breathe and relax, man. You’re already doing better. It’s got to be easing.”

Watching the taut cords in Din’s throat, Paz could tell he tried to swallow. It took him a couple of tries, but he made it. Moving back up, he took Din’s neck in his hands again and ran his thumbs in long strokes from collarbone to jaw. Eyes closed, Din breathed. It sounded like a sigh of relief as Paz felt him working to swallow again. It came easier for him. He was definitely doing better. The way the episode continued to pass, it had Paz thinking again how perhaps that visual connection with someone helped more than he had anticipated.

Paz knew the isolation you could feel while wearing the helm all the time. Even being used to the comforting weight of it, there were times it still managed to make you feel closed off from the rest of the world. Factor in being in pain? Let’s just say suffering inside the helm could be stifling. Taking it off, maybe it reminded Din he wasn’t alone in his misery.

Brown eyes cracked open again and landed on him.

Looking back, Paz asked, “Doing better?”

Swallowing a couple of times, Din forced out, _“...some.”_

Paz broke into a full grin, “Hey! Found your voice again. That’s good.”

Din responded with a fractured smile, _“Lek.”_

Rubbing against the muscles still pulled rigidly, Paz asked, “Can you move at all?”

A line of concentrated effort cut into Din’s brow then his arms shifted. Flexing a knee, he started drawing up the other. Swallowing again, his voice rasped, _“Little bit.”_

The baby muttered a string of babble as he nuzzled against Din’s face. 

Dragging his arm upward, Din settled his hand over the child’s back. _“...s’okay, ad… m’okay.”_

With Din being new to the whole “helmets can come off” theory, Paz tried to be aware of how much eye contact he was making. Settling his hand over the baby’s head, Paz rubbed along the base of one of his ears, asking, “How are you feeling?”

Clearing his throat, Din’s voice sounded stronger. “Thirsty.”

Looking behind, toward the storage bins in the hull, Paz pushed to his feet. Opening one of the bins, he grabbed a few water bottles and took them back to Din. Taking a knee beside him again, he cracked the seal on one. “Can you sit up?”

Din worked to get an elbow propped beneath himself. His movements were stiff and uncoordinated, and Paz slipped an arm behind his shoulders, pulling him forward.

Shooting him a brief glance, Din muttered, “Thanks.”

Answering with a nod, Paz supported him as he handed Din the open bottle of water. The _beroya’s_ hand trembled as he tipped it toward his mouth, and Paz held the bottom of the bottle, stabilizing it as he drank. Draining most of it, Din pushed it away and Paz set it off to the side before easing him back down. That was when Paz realized how many blankets were beneath Din and his foundling.

Watching the baby move back in to burrow under Din’s chin, Paz asked, “Where did all of these come from?”

Din glanced at him. Dragging up that same hand again, he rubbed his fingers between the babe’s shoulders, looking completely wrecked and just a little bit confused.

Paz elaborated as he recapped the water bottle, “This cushion of blankets you’ve got going on here. Where did they come from?”

Setting the bottle within Din’s reach, Paz watched him lift a shaky hand, pointing to the hull's general area. “The storage compartment.”

“You didn’t tell me we had a storage compartment full of blankets.”

The corner of Din’s mouth quirked into a slight grin. It faded just as quickly as his eyes slid shut. “You’re a walking space heater. Didn’t know you needed any.”

Paz sighed. He looked down at the man before him. The baby was scaling the top of Din’s shoulder, scurrying to curl up skin-to-skin at the hollow of his throat.

He patted Din’s arm, “Get some rest, _vod.”_ He was moving to get up when Din reached for him.

“Wait.” 

Paz looked back down. Swallowing again, Din’s gaze flicked to his. “We need to talk about this.”

Right. The helmet issue. 

Touching his shoulder, Paz told him, “We will. Later. For now, just rest and let yourself rebound.”

Eyes falling closed on him, Din swallowed, “Can you… can you hang around—a little?”

Paz looked him over real quick, “Are you okay?”

Din glanced at him, then his eyes closed, “Yes—mostly. Just...” He trailed off as his brown eyes landed on him without words, and Paz understood. After a week of browbeating the guy into asking for help, Din was finally reaching out, telling him what he needed. 

Paz nodded, “Sure, Din.”

Holding his kid against his chest, Din’s movements remained stiff as he worked to move onto his side. Paz didn’t bother asking before giving him a hand getting there. Looking at the available space on the pallet of blankets, Paz stretched out facing the _beroya_ and his foundling. 

Din looked like he was already dropping off. Eyes closed, he extended a hand between them and slowly curled the material of Paz’s shirt in his grip.

Looking at him, Paz touched the side of Din’s arm. Giving it a light, reassuring squeeze, Paz thought about what it must be like to go through an attack like that. Physically having your body locked down, being trapped within where you couldn’t move, you couldn’t speak... fuck, Din had struggled to breathe as the muscles in his body betrayed him.

It hadn’t lasted long. Lant had told Paz they usually didn’t, just a few minutes. But what must those minutes feel like? How long did they seem to drag on for? On top of suffering physically, what impact did it have on your mental health? The pain, frustration, and fear of being locked inside your body like that.

How many times had Din gone through something like that in the months he was out here alone with the kid? Paz couldn’t begin to imagine having a baby under your care and not being able to move, knowing he was unsupervised as you laid there, having no choice over not being able to get to him if you needed to.

So, yeah, Paz could understand why Din would ask him to stay beside them as he recovered from going through an episode like that. He could barely sit up to drink water. What if the baby needed something? Hell... what if Din needed something? What if it started to relapse and creep up on him again? Looking over his friend, Paz thought about how, even in his sleep, he kept the material of his shirt in his grip.

Paz needed to get in touch with Lant. He needed to give him a sitrep of their day, as requested. He also needed to figure something out with him—something so that Din never suffered alone through something like this again. Something that could alert him if Din couldn’t. There had to be something. Maybe one of those wrist bands Lant put on Din at the med center. Perhaps he could hook him up with one of those and the program for his vambrace that would alert Paz if Din’s vitals started to spike—or tank.

He needed to make that call. However, he was needed more right where he was, lying beside Din and the baby, watching over them for a little bit so Din could just let go and find rest.

Taking a selfish moment to really look Din over, Paz didn’t have to try hard to see the kid he grew up with in the man before him now. Memories of those days could be hazy and spotty, but meeting Din for the first time, that one remained clear.

It seemed like a fucking lifetime ago.

Their _buire_ had been close. Paz could still remember the first time Asha Qyrn had come to visit with Din in tow. 

Din had been traumatized. Bringing up the memory, that was the first thought that came to mind. Paz could still see the small boy wearing a deep red tunic and pants with brown boots. Red hood usually pulled up over his head, he’d been perpetually glued to his _buir_ at first. 

Paz had been twelve then, Din eight. Whenever their _buire_ had gotten together, Din would remain clutched to the man holding him. Asha hardly seemed to mind. It was just the kind of guy he was—patient and kind. Thinking back, Paz smirked at the visual of the man just rolling with it as he maneuvered around, trying to function normally while holding a sixty-five-pound leech.

Understandably, it had taken some time for Din to settle in with them on Mandalore.

Now, Paz could easily understand the circumstances behind Din’s behavior. As a kid, though, he had wrestled with it. Paz was Tribe-born, meaning his life had revolved around a thriving sense of unity and protection. He had the luxury of growing up with an unwavering idea of security. Throughout his younger years, he’d seen foundlings brought into their numbers plenty of times. He’d seen the usual faraway stare of loneliness in their eyes and observed how they usually kept themselves skirted away from the other kids.

The Tribe had drilled into the young minds of its _ade_ what it meant to be a foundling, the traumas the kids had frequently endured, and how it would take time, patience, and compassion for them to come around. Because of his elders, Paz had understood about orphans and their difficult position. He’d just never experienced it up close and personal until Din showed up.

Paz remembered that first time. He’d been sitting between his parents as he listened to Asha give a mild recap of the mission where he’d found Din. After he had finished and the conversation had rolled over into one regarding a strange ticking noise his own _buir_ kept hearing on his speeder bike, Paz had grown tired of the topic and walked up to the huddled mass of crimson clothing and boots.

Getting a silent greeting from the man, Paz had shifted his focus to Din, asking if he wanted to go outside.

Banding his arms tighter around Asha’s cowl, Din had shoved his face further beneath the lip of his helm, effectively shutting Paz out. The next few times they met, Paz had been met with similar results whenever he tried to speak with Din.

That was when it had turned into a battle of wills between the two of them.

Paz could remember the feeling of the challenge rising within him. He likes a good challenge—always had. He was good at them, often crushing them into dust. The way he saw it, Din was just one more challenge he needed to figure out.

His tactics began by suggesting anything he could think of that might spark Din’s interest. Starting off small, he would offer the boy a drink or something to eat. The next time, he upped the ante by offering to go with him to hang out with the other kids. He talked about scaring up a game of borgleball or repulsor puck.

Then, one day as he greeted Asha, Din had moved to peek at him. Arms still banded around his adoptive parent in a tense hold, Din had peeked at him from over the white material of his sleeve. His dark gaze held a spark of curiosity as Paz had stood in front of him, offering the chance to go with him to see Fiah’s new litter of strill pups.

Din hadn’t looked away and Paz told him, “They’re only two weeks old. You can fit one of them in the palm of your hand.”

Din hadn’t spoken a word as his dark gaze continued to study him.

Paz asked, “Do you know what strill are?”

Blinking at him, the boy shook his head. It was the smallest of movements, but it was the first time he’d responded to him, and Paz had smiled, “They’re like canines, a little bit... they have a smell... and they’re kind of... well, they’re not _cute,_ exactly, but they like it when you hold them and when they grow up they’re so much fun to take hunting.”

Din’s brow had furrowed. It had seemed like he was heavily weighing how badly he wanted to see the pups versus leaving the protective shelter of his _buir._ A moment later, his curiosity had won out as he pulled back and leveled his guardian with a silent, quizzical expression of uncertainty.

Asha’s tone had been gentle but firm. “Go on now with Paz and see those pups.” Leaning in, his _buir_ lazily whispered, _“Go and see if one of them decides it wants to go home with you after it’s big enough.”_

A slow smile of shocked disbelief had spread over little Din’s face, and then that was that. For the first time in over a dozen meetings, Paz claimed silent victory over another challenge as he watched Din slide off the man’s lap. Standing beside him, Din looked up at him and Paz tossed his head toward the door.

They were leaving the house's main room when Paz overheard his own _buir’s_ warm chuckle, _“Already spoiling the ad, Asha?”_

To which came the response, _“He deserves to be spoiled a little bit right now.”_

Paz hadn’t been sure if Din heard them. He had the thought that he must have because then his small hand was slipping into his. Looking down, he’d watched Din stare straight ahead as they walked. Not saying a word, Paz had simply closed Din’s hand in his grip and took him four houses over to see the pups. 

That day at Fiah’s was the first time he’d seen Din smile since being brought into the fold of their Tribe.

Din twitched in his sleep, bringing him back out of his thoughts. Looking him over, Paz stroked his thumb over the arm he still held in his grip. With everything Din had been through recently, if it gave the guy some comfort for Paz to lay beside him, if it helped him relax and recover... hell, he was just fine with hanging around for as long as Din wanted him to.

_TBC_


	2. Memories and Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din sorts through some memories and contemplates what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long it took this to post. I'm dealing with some pretty intense stuff over here in Real-Life Land that is devouring my ability to crank out the chapters. I'm going to try working with shorter chapters to see if that helps. Well, shorter by my standards. :D 
> 
> Be well, everyone. Happy Holidays and here's to hoping 2021 has some good in store for us for a change. 
> 
> I hope you like this installment. <3

* * *

_Sirens blare as glass crunches under the tread of their boots. A nearby explosion goes off, shaking the foundation of the building and Din staggers to the side. He throws a palm against the wall as windows explode and glass showers around them._

_At thirteen years old, Din had sworn into the Creed less than a year ago. He’s been training since he was ten. He’s becoming a good soldier but doesn’t mind admitting he’s still green when it comes to combat experience._

_Paz is a month away from turning seventeen. He seems fearless as he grabs his arm, shouting beside his helmet, “C’mon, Din! Move!”_

_Shoving him forward, Paz spins and fires off a few rounds at the creature scrambling down the hall towards them. Six legs clack and scrape against the floor—and the kriffing walls! Large enough to take up most of the hallway, it was one of the big ones._

_Droves of identical scorpion-like creatures smart enough to form an army had launched an attack on their people hours ago. Din doesn’t even know what the hell this thing is, and there hasn’t been time for Paz to explain._

_Red bolts from Paz’s blaster ricochet off its hard shell, just like all their other shots._

_A black, shiny tail arches high over its back and then the chittering begins. They’ve been running from that sound for hours. It’s what the creatures do right before launching a poisoned barb from the tail._

_Grabbing Paz, Din yanks the larger boy around the corner as two black barbs the size of his fucking arm sail past._

_A ball of fire screams past empty window frames beside them. He can feel the heat from it. A second later, it finds resistance from the building across the way. The impact is hard enough to shake the one they’re in as they run. Plaster and duracrete crack and ping off their armor. Something gets lodged in the back of his leg, and for one terrifying moment, Din is sure it’s a barb from one of the smaller creatures._

_Paz’s gloved hand is still gripping his arm as he is pushed up against the wall by the stairwell, and Din takes a second to check the back of his thigh._

_Opening the door, Paz turns the black of his visor on him, “You hit?”_

_His voice is steady as he asks, but Din can pick up the underlying concern in the question. Shaking his head, he reports, “Just a chunk of shrapnel.”_

_“Can you run?”_

_“Yes.” Din’s answer is automatic. The piece of building material wedged in his muscle kriffing hurts. Blood runs down his leg, soaking his pants and causing the material to stick to his skin._

_None of that matters. There is no other option_ but _to run._

_Paz wastes a second more looking at him, then holds his blaster in front of himself as he glances inside the stairwell. He ducks back out. “Seems empty.”_

_Chittering comes from the dark hall behind them. A dry, rattling sound of warning._

_The hair on Din’s neck stands on end as he throws a look over his shoulder and Paz shoves him into the stairwell. A black barb impales the wall inches above Paz’s helm as he is yanking the door closed behind them. More clatter off the durasteel on the other side and fall to the floor. The creature is too large to fit through the doorway._

_That one is at least. Din breathes through the thought as they begin to climb._

_Their helm lights bounce around as they check their surroundings in the dark stairwell. Sweat rolls down Din’s neck as he follows close behind. He tries to quiet his breathing as they ascend past one floor and keep going toward the next._

_One hand gripping his blaster, Paz keeps his aim in front of himself. Moving with a similar stance, Din covers the rear as they encroach on the floor above._

_Looking over the rail at the dark chasm below, Din swallows around a dry throat as they turn the corner and head up the next half flight of stairs. Paz stops at the door and takes a peek through the small square window at the top._

_Din looks behind, thinking he hears something in the blackness behind them. A primal urge to just go overwhelms him and he turns to Paz with an urgent whisper, “We gotta keep going.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Keep going up?”_

_Paz takes a step and looks over the railing. He looks up. “I don’t know. If we keep going up, we could make it to the air pad on the roof—might get picked up by one of our own.”_

_“Or we might run into more of them.”_

_“I know.”_

_“More might be in this stairwell with us—the smaller ones.”_

_Paz sighs. “Right. We stay in here, and we’re trapped. Our best shot is out on the floor where we can actually evade.”_

_Din watches Paz’s gloved hand close around the door handle and rushes to ask, “They know we’re in here. Right? Our buire; they’re coming?” Din hates the way his voice trembles. The older boy seems anything but afraid, and Din hates to admit that the burning way his guts churn has too much to do with the fact that he is._

_Looking at him again, Paz spoke soft but sure, “They know, Din. They’ll come for us. If they can’t, they’ll send others.”_

_Din doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak. The invasion was too much like his home planet five years ago. Too many feelings are muddling his thoughts and he just gives Paz a curt nod._

_He gets one in return. “Stay close to me.”_

_Turning back to the door, Paz rotates the handle. The mechanism creaks under his grip. Pulling the door open, he looks, then walks out into the dim light of the hallway. Following close behind, Din glanced at the Mandalorian digits painted on the steel surface. The twelfth floor. He didn’t think he’d ever been up on this floor before._

_The power supply was severely compromised in the first wave of the attack, making lights short out and flicker inside offices and empty rooms. An eerie strobe effect interrupts the finality of darkness shrouding them. Shadows move when they shouldn’t. Din stares into those shadows, waiting for something to come at them until his eyes burn and he has to force himself to blink._

_Their footfalls are silent against the linoleum floor._

_Compared to the chaos going on a few floors below, the silence on floor twelve is stifling._

_Something keeps nagging at Din as they press forward. It’s not a sound or even one of the moving shadows. It’s a feeling, and he stops to look behind._

_Paz is opening an office door as Din makes a low two-tone whistle. The older teen turns his helm to face him, and Din holds up a closed fist. Paz stops. Holding up two fingers, Din brushes the side of his helmet before pointing behind where four hallways intersect._

_Leaving the door, Paz comes up beside him. He looks down one hallway, then another. He motions for them to cross the intersection. Moving in a crouched run, Din crosses then presses against the far wall. Paz does the same. Pushing back against the wall across from him, he takes a glance around the corner._

_Din looks around the one on his side._

_Lights flicker. They play games with his eyes as shadows dance and creep. Din stares hard, trying to discern reality within the illusion._

_Something isn’t right. He still feels it—the wrongness. The silence is too loud. It burns in his ears as his heart pounds in his chest._

_A whistle has him looking across the way, and Paz motions for them to move._

_That feeling won’t leave him alone and he takes one last look down the dark hallway. Gaze narrowing, he stares hard then feels his eyes grow wide behind his visor as the shadows race forward. Hard clacking scrapes the floor as the chittering starts._

_Paz grabs his wrist and drags him around a far corner. The older boy’s large hand slaps the back of his helm, forcing him into a duck as a shower of poisoned barbs spear in the wall beside them. They’re smaller. This creature is one of the smaller ones, but it’s still poisonous—still deadly._

_The hallway turns out to be a dead-end, and Paz swears._

_They hear the clicking of the creature against the floors as it comes after them and Paz starts to push Din behind himself, but he staggers and trips. Din grabs him as he slumps against the wall. Paz is sliding toward the floor, and Din clutches onto the pads of his under armor as he pulls him against himself._

_Paz is heavy in his arms as Din watches him reach a shaky hand to his neck and pluck a barb from his cowl. The clicking gets closer, and Paz pushes him, pawing at him more than anything and telling him to go._

_The teen has four years and a couple of good growth spurts on him. He’s almost twice his size, and Din’s injured leg rages as he fights gravity, trying to pull Paz back to his feet. Gravity wins out, bringing them both down to the floor._

_“Go.” Paz pushes at him again. His voice is just a rasp as his head flops in the direction of one of the doors in the hall. “Go, verd. Hide and survive.”_

_The creature’s first two legs step past the corner._

_Din looks at Paz’s blaster. He just got it from his buir. He’s so proud of that thing, and Din pulls it from his slackened grip._ _Slumped against the wall, Paz breathes fast and shallow as his visor tilts up at him._

_The creature turns the corner and stops at the end of the hallway._

_Din takes his blaster and Paz’s. One in each hand, he squeezes the grips in his gloved hands. Standing, he turns and takes a stance in front of his friend, and he starts firing._

_The darkness of the hallway glowing red around him as he shoots, Din watches with a sick feeling of hopelessness as his bolts fling off the creature’s hard shell. He still doesn’t know how to take these things down. He doesn’t know their weaknesses. Armor hits the floor behind him as Paz tips over, his helmet hitting the floor. He’s dying, and tears of fear and anger burn in Din’s eyes as he keeps firing._

_The creature at the end of the hallway sinks back on its haunches._

_Din’s seen them do that. It’s getting ready to shoot. Shaking head to toe, Din stands his ground and fires as fast as he can._

_The creature’s sides swell. It’s aiming. Not even one of his shots makes a difference and he has a sobering realization that this is it._

_This is his final stand._

_Him and Paz are going out right here and now._

_Keeping up his protective stance in front of the downed soldier behind him, the only thing that gives Din a shred of comfort is knowing that they wouldn’t die alone. If they were going out, they were going together._

_He’s squeezing the triggers so fast, the muscles in his forearms burn from the strain—Paz’s blaster trills with a low energy warning. Glancing down at it, Din’s heart jumps into his throat. He gets off two more shots before his own sounds off with the same notice. Terrified, Din stares the thing down. His breaths are grating through his dry throat as he keeps firing._

_The chittering starts again, and he knows what comes next, but a_ _massive explosion has Din’s jaw hanging open. His young eyes burn as he watches the creature go flying past on a billowing ball of fire. Standing there, he just blinks stupidly as the inside of his helm lights up from the intensity of the orange and yellow flames. He doesn’t feel the tears that roll down his face as a Mandalorian rounds the corner at them, another striding past, still firing on the creature as it shrieks out a death cry._

_“They’re down here!” cries the Mandalorian running at them._

_Hands dropping to his sides, Din keeps his grip on the blasters as he watches more of their Tribe turn the corner and race toward them. Asha’s voice shouts out from somewhere within the middle of the pack, and Din feels numb as he takes a few wobbly steps forward._

_His buir shouts for him again, and Din doesn’t remember running. He’s too far away from Paz, but his buir reaches for him and a sob bursts from Din’s soul as Asha grabs him. He’s hauled into the man’s embrace and Din’s leg gives out on him, reminding him that he’s injured._

_Clutching his buir’s arms, the only thing he can say is Paz is hurt. Paz is hurt. Paz got stung. He’s hurt…_

_He can’t stop rambling, and Asha holds him tighter. He’s wrapped in the arms of his buir. It’s all beskar and muscle and cloth and leather, and Din only manages to pant. He can’t breathe, but he can say Paz’s name over and over. It’s all he can get out._

_His buir tries laying him against the floor, and Din fights him. Paz is hurt. Paz is hurt. He can’t stop panting. He can’t breathe. His leg is numb. Asha’s shouting at him, but he’s getting too far away to hear._

_The last thing he makes out is that Merruc gave Paz the antidote. He’s going to be okay._

_Din’s vision greys, and his world tips violently as everything goes dark._

* * *

Din's eyes snapped open on a quick inhale. Feeling slightly disoriented from the dream, he stared at Paz. He was lying on his side beside him, and Din remembered the spastic episode. He remembered asking Paz to hang around as he drifted off, and Paz had agreed.

The last Din knew, his kid was curled against his chest as they fell asleep. Now he was wedged into the narrow space between him and Paz on the blankets. Arms tangled up in the strings at the collar of Paz’s shirt, he was whining as he struggled to get free. He only succeeded in confining himself further. 

Din took in the full grin that had spread over the large Mandalorian’s face. Laughing silently, Paz worked to get the babe’s little arms freed as he explained the basics of tying a simple knot. Oblivious to how Din was studying them, Paz’s tone was both patient and humored as he went over what went wrong just then.

His _ad_ sounded amazed as he watched Paz unwinding the strings from his wrist and freeing him. Paz smiled at him again and flashes of that smile passed through Din’s mind from when they were kids.

The memories carried with them a host of complicated thoughts and feelings.

So much had happened between them during their time under the helm. The most distancing of which had been how they’d chosen to deal with the destruction of their home and their people. Before all that, though, before it became overly convoluted, life had been good. He even dared to think that they had fun as adults in the fighting corps before the bottom dropped out.

For years they’d been tight, their friendship easily enduring the trials and perils of growing up. But, somewhere between running around with a pack of strill as kids and fighting beside each other in combat, that friendship had evolved into something much more serious but was by no means exclusive.

It might have, though, if things had been different.

Lying there, looking at the man across from him, Din wondered where exactly they were headed this time around. There was much to discuss and sort out between them. There were also all the soft touches and patient compassion Paz had shown him since finding him on Jakku that he needed to process.

Running the risk of jumping to conclusions, Din had the thought that it was almost like his injuries had given them a clean slate. Maybe the universe was using his setback to offer them the opportunity to pick up where they had left off before everything had gone straight to hell.

He wondered if... 

He just wondered.

Looking at Paz, Din thought again about the dream he just had and told him, “I remember where I saw that stance.”

The other Mandalorian looked over his kid’s head. Steel-blue eyes landed on him and Paz asked, “What?”

“When you were stopping the fight. I had a dream. That stance you took over me on Jakku... I couldn’t remember.”

Paz’s brows drew together. Reaching past the baby, he gripped his shoulder, “Din, you’re not making much sense here.”

He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t. His thoughts were a jumbled mess inside his mind, like half of them were still asleep. Maybe they were. Or perhaps they were just blocked and disorganized by the brain injury. Putting his thoughts into words was never something that came easily for him. Since the injury, well, let’s just say it hadn’t gotten any easier.

Either way—mind half asleep or just blocked—Din closed his eyes and took a breath, giving himself a moment to sort his thoughts. Paz squeezed his shoulder, his thumb rubbing over the front of it with calming circles, and Din looked at him again.

The baby squealed as he fought against the string tangled around his wrist again, and Din told Paz, “I had a dream.”

“What? Just now?”

“Yes. You and me. On Mandalore. We were running from the barb-tailed crawlers that had raided. We were in that building—can’t remember what it was... twenty floors and just a bunch of offices.”

“That wasn’t just a dream, _vod.”_

“I know. But I dreamt of it just now. I saw the stance. It was from back then.”

“I remember getting hurt.”

“Poisoned. You caught a poisoned barb.”

“In the neck, yeah.” Paz looked at him, “That stance you were trying to remember… that was you, Din.” Paz’s thumb stroked over his shoulder, “In front of me.”

 _“Elek._ I couldn’t remember, but I knew it was familiar. It was driving me nuts that we’d been in that situation before, but I couldn’t remember.” 

“I don’t remember much about it either, except for the running—and then lying on the floor feeling like my insides were on fire.”

Paz had been looking somewhere past him as he spoke, then his gaze settled on him again. “I also remember being pissed at you for being stubborn enough to stand there instead of hiding like I told you to.”

Din grinned, “You were so pissed.”

“Furious.”

“Didn’t talk to me for the longest time.”

“You know... It wasn’t just that I was mad.” Paz looked at him as he sighed, “I was afraid, Din.”

He frowned just a little at that. “That’s understandable. That poison, it acts quickly. Your body was shutting down—”

“I’m not talking about the poison or dying. I mean, sure, I was a little anxious over that part, but I was afraid... for you. I was down. I couldn’t do anything to protect you. And you refused to leave.”

“I wasn’t just going to abandon you when you were incapacitated and go hide like some _hut’uun.”_

“You’d only spoken your vows and put on the helm, what... six months prior?”

“Something like that.”

“You were thirteen, _verd’ika_ —a baby in the Creed. So, yeah, Din. You were supposed to go and hide, but instead, you stood your ground like a fucking warrior.” Paz’s stare became intense as he settled his large hand over the back of his head, “Fucking _mandokarla.”_

Din smirked, “I don’t know about that. Maybe I was just frozen with fear.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. Especially considering how my blaster had been fired so rapidly, the muzzle had overheated and warped, requiring it to be replaced. You were thirteen and already _mandokar—”_

“Stop...” Din could feel the heat rise in his cheeks at the praise, and he started reconsidering the whole helmets-off thing.

“I’m serious, Din. You were _mandokar_ with that crawler, and twenty-odd years later, you’re _mandokar_ still. With this.”

Din’s brows pulled together over a load of confusion, “With what?”

Paz’s hand slipped from his head and slid down to rest over his wrist. “With this. With what you’re going through now. Your injuries, the setback, and just how you’re pushing through it all.”

Moving onto his back, Din grimaced as he got himself situated. Looking over, he sighed, _“Mandokar_ is about the farthest from how I’m feeling about all this.”

“That’s because you’re looking at it from the inside. Anyone else can see how you refuse to back down as you continue to fight, meeting it head-on.”

* * *

The corner of Din’s mouth twitched upward as he looked away, and Paz sighed silently to himself.

He knew it would have been too much to expect Din to jump on board with his opinions. At least he wasn’t entirely shooting them down. It was another step in the right direction. Even so, Paz was certain Din’s soul-path remained shrouded with a confusing fog of darkness. But that was okay. The way he figured, if he kept leading, eventually Din would follow. When he did, Paz would be there to lead him back into the light where he belonged.

Looking at Din, Paz smirked at how he took a turn at freeing the baby from his shirt again.

Once free, the kid scampered across the short distance between them and lunged for his _buir_. Tugging on Din’s hand, he pulled it over him as he curled up against Din’s side. 

Din pulled him in close and Paz asked, “How’re you feeling?”

“Back’s less than happy—head’s pounding.”

The lighting was low, but Paz noticed the squint as Din looked at him.

“Lights making it worse?”

_“Lek.”_

“Want your helmet back?”

Din blinked up at him. “That’s a complicated question.”

Paz nodded with understanding. He remembered the first time he’d taken off his own helm in front of someone not of his clan. The feelings of conflicting self-realizations versus traditional morals in his upbringing clashed hard for him in those first weeks. He’d lay awake at night wondering if he’d just thrown his entire life away. Rolling around the bits and pieces of evidence that justified his divergence, Paz considered the roots of the ultra-orthodox branch of the Creed he’d been following.

His mind would often go to: Just because it was the truth, or had sound logic behind it, didn’t mean it gave him the green light to change his interpretation of the Creed without first discussing it with an elder—preferably his _alor_. 

Then again, Paz knew religious teachings and beliefs were seldom infallible. He couldn’t think of one religion that hadn’t had its teaching passed down in one way or another, either in written or verbal form. Each time a story was retold; every time a manuscript was rewritten or copied, small things here and there got mistranslated, including the Mandalore creed.

It was something he still wanted to talk about with Din.

Later, though. If the way Din was rubbing his brow was any indicator of how he was feeling, then wasn’t the time. The _beroya_ still hadn’t made a move for his helmet, and avoiding the urge to slide the hair on his brow aside, Paz rubbed over the curve of his shoulder.

“I’ll kill the lights.”

“You don’t have to.”

Paz moved to get up, and Din gave his shirt a tug, “It’s not that bad.”

“Nerfshit. I can tell just by how hard you’re squinting. Anyway, I’ve got to get up. Gotta drop us out of hyperspace real quick.”

Din looked up at him as he stood, “Why? Something wrong with the ship?”

Paz went over to the light panel and killed everything but the emergency lights lining the hull.

“No. Nothing like that.”

Walking back, he picked up Din’s helmet and pulled out his comm. Passing it down, Paz told him, “Just need to land for about ten minutes. I promised your medic I’d call. He wanted a sitrep after the market.”

He handed Din his silver vambrace.

Taking his comm and bracer, Din grumbled, “Guess you’ll have plenty to talk about.”

Overlooking that little stab of negativity, Paz crouched down and tapped a finger to the beskar of Din’s vambrace, “After we land, I’ll close you and the baby up in the hull. You hail me on comms if you need something.”

“Where will you be?”

“Just outside the ship. I need room to move.”

“Still a pacer while talking over comms?” Din smirked in the low light. “Some things never change, Vizsla.”

Paz huffed, “Still inspect a mechanic’s work before exchanging credits, Djarin?” 

Din responded with a sound of dismissal, and Paz grinned, “Uh-huh. Thought so.”

_TBC_

**Mando'a Translations:**

_ad--_ son/daughter

 _alor--_ Tribe leader

 _beroya--_ bounty hunter

 _buir--_ mother/father

 _buire--_ parents

 _elek--_ yes

 _hu'tuun--_ coward

 _lek--_ yeah

 _mandokar--_ the "right stuff", the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life

 _mandokarla--_ **having** the "right stuff", showing guts and spirit, the state of **being** the epitome of Mando virtue

 _verd_ \--soldier/warrior

 _verd'ika--_ the rank of a private. Can also be used affectionately as a nickname. Context is critical.

 _vod--_ brother/sister


	3. Kyramla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din, Paz, and Lant discuss options and Din's clan grows by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! 
> 
> This is my Christmas present to you all. Thank you, all of you lovely people, you readers, you subscribers, you bookmarkers, you commenters, and you leaver of the kudos, for all of your support and patience. I am deeply touched by how well-received this fic has been. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this installment.

* * *

Leaving Din and the baby in the ship, Paz looked around at the barren surface on one of five moons orbiting around some planet and placed his call. 

Walking laps around where the _Crest_ sat against the grassy ground, he stopped as Lant picked up the call. The medic was in mid-conversation with someone when his voice came over the line. Medical lingo got thrown back and forth for another second before he broke off to address him. 

_“Just a minute, Paz.”_

“No rush.”

He wasn’t sure if Lant heard him as he was already talking to someone else again. Another moment passed, then he came over the line again.

_“Paz; hey, man. How’d it go today?”_

“You got a minute? Because this is going to take a minute.”

_“Uh, I can… One sec—hey, Anoc…”_

Paz listened as Lant spoke to his assistant. The Pau’an’s deep voice rumbled from a distance in response then Lant started rattling off instructions before telling him he was stepping down the hall for a little bit.

_“Okay, Paz. You’ve got me. Shoot.”_

Pacing, Paz laid it out. He told Lant about the market then afterward, Din mentioning a migraine coming on, the evasive maneuvers they’d taken that headed it off and how Din had fallen asleep with the baby. Then, he told him about the episode that Din had suffered through.

Lant remained quiet, patiently listening as Paz rambled through the details of the spastic episode. He wrapped it all up and the line went silent for a second.

_“Is Din okay now?”_

Paz gave into the panic he’d held tucked away for hours and threw his hands in the air.

“Fuck if I know! It was a bad one, Lant. A really fucking bad one. He couldn’t speak, he could barely fucking breathe... it went on forever. He fucking crashed from it for a couple of hours and when he came around, he wasn’t making sense. He had to concentrate just to put a few fucking sentences in the right fucking order.”

_“Okay, Paz. Just... take a breath for a sec. Those spastic episodes, they’re terrible to go through—for everyone involved. From what you described, it sounds like you did everything right.”_

Paz wrung a gloved hand around the back of his neck, “I didn’t even know he was down there suffering.”

_“If you were up in the cockpit, how could you? Especially if Din went non-vocal.”_

“I should’ve... I don’t know... checked on them more.”

_“This is not your fault, Paz.”_

“If I would have checked, he wouldn’t have suffered through it alone.”

_“He didn’t. You got to him and helped him through it.”_

Paz scoffed, “Not soon enough.”

A long sigh passed over the line. “ _How long were you guys at the market?”_

“Roughly two hours. We... sort of lost track of time. That’s also on me.”

_“Paz, could you stop with the guilt trip for five damn seconds?”_

Looking at the ground, Paz kicked a rock.

 _“You did everything right. Okay? You didn’t slack off and you didn’t screw Din over. Days like today are_ going _to happen. There’s no getting around that. Not with the type of spinal injury he’s walking around with.”_

The medic paused. When Paz didn’t reply, he added, _"You just went through a trial by fire, Paz. Now you should let it go and take a fucking breath, man.”_

Starting another lap around the ship, he sighed. “I don’t know.”

_“What don’t you know?”_

“It’s just…” Stopping, Paz stared at the planet in the distance, “The baby was crying, and he’d been overtired. I thought he had a bad dream or something... I figured Din had it covered since he wasn’t calling for me to take the kid. The crying got worse, and I called down to Din. He didn’t answer. I went down and found him fucking locked the fuck up and hurting and.. _._ ”

Paz wrung the back of his neck again. His throat felt tight as he insisted, “Lant, there has to be a way for me to be alerted if something like this happens again. Some way for me to know if Din needs help but can’t call for me. What about... what about that program on your bracer, the one linked to the wristband you put on him when we first got there. The one you were using to monitor his vitals. That throws an alarm on your bracer if his heart rate or breathing goes rogue, right?”

_“Well, yeah, but it’s ridiculously expensive.”_

“How much?”

_“I don’t know off the top of my head. But the med center needed to get a grant from the Hunters Guild to afford it, and that was for only five units.”_

Paz cursed. Then he did it again.

_“There might be a different option here.”_

On the move again, he kicked the same rock a second time, “Yeah, like what.”

_“A service droid. There are ones that look and feel just like a miniature version of a loth-wolf—I mean, JUST like one. Furry, warm, pants when their internal temperature rises... you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, aside from how much smaller they are to the real thing.”_

“Okay, first off: A _droid?_ Have you _met_ Din? And two: Loth-wolves are fucking huge. Huge, Lant. Where in the hell would we fit one in the _Crest?”_

_“It would take some convincing—probably some browbeating, I know, but hear me out. It’s a droid, so no need to feed it or take it somewhere to be relieved. More importantly, it can alert you if Din’s having an episode; better still, it can alert him before it hits. If you know one is coming, you’ll have a better chance of heading it off. That could come in really handy if you’re out in public somewhere. If you knew one was coming, you’d have a chance to get him somewhere private to ride it out.”_

Leaning against the landing gear, Paz rolled it around in his mind. 

“It’s a miniature version of a loth-wolf.”

_“Yes.”_

_“How_ miniature?”

The medic hummed as he considered the question. _“Roughly a hundred pounds, standing about a meter at the shoulders. The head would probably come up to Din’s waist.”_

“You call that miniature?”

_“Compared to the real thing? Yes.”_

“Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

Paz was quiet as he thought about it more.

_“Something else, Paz... it could be programmed to also alert Din to side effects from the head injury that might pop up. Like, migraines or if he starts to disassociate or has a spike of anxiety…”_

“Effects from the brain injury?”

_“Yes.”_

Paz’s brow pulled hard at that, “I thought you said Din was slated for a full recovery.”

_“He is. For the damage to his spinal cord. The head injury... Paz, that’s just one big game of wait and see. I fully expect him to continue to improve. But, if we’re completely honest here, there is a reasonable probability Din will be dealing with issues from that off and on for the rest of his life.”_

“What the fuck, Lant! Why am I just hearing this now? Does Din even know?”

_“Whoa, whoa, whoa... Slow down a sec. Never once did I promise Din would make a full recovery from the brain damage. He had an open skull fracture, Paz. His brain swelled so much that he suffered seizures and acute memory loss for a time. The bacta went a hell of a long way toward reversing that, but this is the brain we’re talking about—the complexity of the human mind, Paz. With the level of injury Din suffered, he’s beyond fortunate to be doing as well as he is. And, Yes. Din knows. He’s always known what his odds were on that.”_

Plopping his ass down against the landing gear, Paz was dying to pull off his helm and scrub a hand over his face. “Well, I must have totally fucking blanked on that part of the conversation before we left because this is fucking news to me.”

_“You’re dealing with a shit-ton right now, mate. In the span of a few hours, you found yourself with a seriously injured friend and his baby under your care. Between those two, you’ve been stretched pretty thin as you guys get into a rhythm. It’s no wonder you might not remember everything the three of us discussed.”_

Paz sighed as he looked around. The line went quiet for another moment before Lant spoke up again.

_“One last point on the wolf I’d like to make: Traveling the Outer Rim as much as you guys do, I could have them add a program for it to double as a guard dog. Give Din some extra protection while he’s still recovering. I guarantee you, most that he’d come across would think twice about messing with him with a fucking wolf at his side.”_

Paz smirked behind the helm, “Nobody wants to scrap with a loth-wolf—miniature or not.”

_“I mean, I know I wouldn’t.”_

* * *

Sometime the following day, Din was sitting in his pilot’s seat, looking from Paz’s visor to Lant’s dusty blue image on the holonet unit. 

“A what droid?”

_“A service droid. I know you’ve seen them.”_

“I have, but... ones that lead the blind.”

_“There are all sorts out there, Din. Guide droids assist the visually impaired and service droids assist with other types of disabilities.”_

_Disability—_ Din sighed to himself. Four months after the battle on Nevarro and it was still a hard pill to swallow. One that he’d been trying to choke down more and more lately.

Din looked at Lant’s image. “So, having this discussion... does it mean that it’s official now?” He tapped the side of his silver helm, “Not coming back any more from this?”

Lant shook his head, _"Not at all. It’s only been a few months. You could continue to recover for years. For the parts of your brain that are damaged, the organ will continue to create new pathways to compensate for what you lost. I think you still have a lot of recovering to do, and I fully expect you to continue to improve…”_

The medic leaned closer to his holounit.

_“But, Din, that’s going to take time. And, as we’ve discussed, the odds of you reaching a complete recovery—”_

“Not really in the cards.”

Lant sighed. _“It’s not probable. Let’s go with that.”_

Pas shifted beside his chair, “What are his chances for a full recovery?”

_“Do you want a percentage?”_

“Yes.”

Answering for his medic, Din looked up at Paz, “Thirty-two percent.”

Hands landing on his hips, the heavy gunner just nodded, and Din turned back to Lant, “Unless something changed that I don’t remember.”

His friend responded with a lazy smile, _"Nah, man, you got it right.”_

“So, this service droid...” A twinge in his back cut into his conversation, and he adjusted in his seat. “How exactly can it help?” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder, “What did you tell Paz that has him already sold on the idea?”

Lant started ticking off on his fingers as he laid it out for him, and Din listened. In the end, it was the droid being able to alert _before_ a spastic episode happened that resonated with him. Being able to get on top of that before it overtook him, maybe being able to ensure he wasn’t alone with the baby when the next one hit… it had Din doing a quick calculation on how to fit a hundred-pound loth-wolf within the tight confines of his quarters.

The cockpit went silent after Lant finished with his lecture. 

A grumble came from the pram beside him, and Din slid his gaze to his right. He found his son lying on his back, asleep. Little snorts sounded as he twitched. Dreaming, he had a stuffed frog in each arm, hugging them close before dragging them with him as he rolled onto his side.

Swiveling his seat around, Din looked up at Paz, confirming, “You want us to drop a sizable chunk of credits on a service droid.”

Paz leveled his visor on him, “Yes. I think it would be worth every last credit.”

Pulling in a long breath, Din kept the sigh trapped in his lungs for a beat before releasing it. Turning back to the medic’s image, he conceded. “All right. Where do we start?”

* * *

Almost a week later, Din pulled the _Razor Crest_ out of hyperspace just beyond Nevarro’s atmosphere. In the distance, rivers of lava ran red like veins over the planet’s dark surface. Standing in his lap, the child cooed. Gripping Din’s hands, the baby wiggled as he bounced up and down on his thigh plate with a squeal.

Looking at him, Din teased, “What’s got you so excited?”

Turning towards him, the baby pointed at the planet growing larger beyond the cockpit’s transparisteel canopy, a long string of babble emphasizing his opinion of their destination.

Din chuckled, “You think you know where we’re going?”

Tiny green hands reached for him, and Din lifted him high in his arms. Touching his cheek, the baby pointed out the glass again.

He liked the sensation of his son’s hand on his face, though it was still something he was working at getting used to. Ever since that last episode of spasticity had his respirations so shitty that black spots had started dancing through his vision, Din had thought long and hard about the points Paz had brought up. He’d lost count of how many discussions they’d had over the topic. Every single one of them had left him with a mild frustration over the fact that Paz was still right.

Nothing in the tenets tying them to their religion required them to hide their face from others.

Not one blasted thing.

That knowledge bred a slurry of emotions and opinions over how blindly he’d followed the elders’ teachings. He’d been so devoted to the cause that he hadn’t considered taking time to think for himself about what was taught versus what the Creed of Mandalore actually stipulated.

He felt naïve, embarrassingly manipulated into remaining loyal to a Way that had forced upon his life an unnecessary obstacle and, to a degree, even loneliness.

For fucking decades.

A familiar twisting knot of anxiety ripped through his chest and Din switched his focus from his misguided past to the warmth of the tiny green hand on his cheek. Rubbing his foundling’s back, Din laid his brow against the baby’s and drew in a calming breath, soothing away the dark emotions blooming and shutting them down before they could carry him away.

“He recognizes the planet?”

Din pulled in another breath, placed a soft kiss on his son’s head, and opened his eyes. Turning his seat, he faced Paz. The heavy gunner sat in the jumpseat, wiping a rag over the dismantled pieces of the blaster he’d purchased at the market on Dantooine.

Din watched him snap the barrel back into the wood grain grip, “He does. And he knows who lives there.”

Paz looked past him to the glowing halo of Nevarro’s atmosphere, “Want me to take him while you land?”

The Nav signaled their proximity, and Din turned back to the controls. Setting the baby in his lap, he grabbed the yolk, “He’s fine.” Looking down, Din did a double-take at the silver gear handle in the baby’s grip. “When did you—?”

The baby looked up at him, and Din shook his head as he reached for a switch, “Never mind.”

* * *

After landing on Nevarro, his kid was vibrating with excitement before Din even had the ramp lowered.

Crouching down, Din held out his hands and the baby ran into his arms. Using the bulkhead for support, he pushed back to his feet as Paz walked up to them, giving the edge of Din’s cloak a slight tug.

“Feeling good enough for the full get-up today?”

Still trying to come back from the setback, things were markedly better for him, though bending or straightening his spine remained tricky—and sometimes he still needed support—but at least now he was strong enough to hold his _ad_ as they prepared to disembark the _Crest._

Slipping on his helmet, Din responded to Paz’s observation, “Everything but the rifle.”

“Want me to carry it?”

 _“Nayc.”_ Bending at the knee, Din strained a little as he reached down to one of the crates, grabbing the stuffed frog his kid had been waving for. Blowing out a breath, he straightened back up. “Not necessary. Cara’s cleaned things up pretty well around here.”

The blue steel of Paz’s helm slid over his face and the heavy gunner gave him a nod, “Let’s hit it then. See if they have a wolf that can mesh with your _unique_ personality.

Walking down the ramp as it lowered, Din leveled his visor at his travel companion, “When you say _unique,_ why do I get the impression you’re really saying: _difficult?”_

Raising a hand to the medic headed their way, Paz answered, “I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.”

Din just sighed as Paz walked off to greet Lant. They were releasing a handshake as Din stopped beside them. Lant greeted him in the same way but threw in a firm pat to the side of his arm.

“Hey, you’re looking better.”

Din responded with a tilt of his helm, “Better than the last time I was here anyway.”

The baby squealed, batting at the hand the medic had on Din’s arm, and Lant looked at him.

“Hey, womp rat. Up high, kid, gimme three...”

The medic held a palm over the kid’s head, and the baby laughed as he slapped his three-fingered claw against it.

“That’s right,” smiled Lant as he dragged a finger down the bridge of the baby’s nose.

“Cara busy?”

Lant looked at him, “She said something about having to knock a few heads together.”

“Sounds like her.”

Grinning, the medic chuckled, “Yeah, it does. She also said something about meeting up with you guys in the cantina later.”

Din nodded, and Lant gave him a quick assessing glance before asking, “You up to a bit of a walk?”

The baby reached out for the medic, and Din passed him off as he answered, “That depends. How far?”

Din was about to give the kid his frog, but he was already captivated by Lant’s retractable badge clip. He pulled it, looked at the badge, then down the length of the nylon cord to the clip on his breast pocket before letting it go. There was a quick zip as the hard plastic ID card snapped back against the clip.

Lant seemed utterly unfazed as he answered, “Maybe twenty minutes.”

His kid went for the badge again and Din tucked the forgotten frog behind his belt. “I can do twenty.”

* * *

Eighteen minutes later, Lant stopped them outside of a modest-sized hut.

Like most other buildings in the town, it had been constructed of sandstone. A single step brought them up on a small front porch where two loth-wolves lay sprawled on the sun-warmed stone. A water barrel sat below a gutter system that ran down from a slap-dash tin roof on the side of the porch. Beside it sat faded green and blue ceramic pots, a miniaturized black loth-wolf laying between them. Just to the right of the door sat a rocking chair, and next to that, a small table with what looked like a forgotten cup of tea.

Walking up beside them, Lant’s hand landed on the head of the grey wolf that approached him. The canine’s head came up to his hip and its lids closed over yellow eyes as the medic gave the beast an absentminded scratch behind the ear while leaning past to peek at the open doorway.

Moving back, he motioned them closer. Din could detect a hint of conspiracy as the medic spoke under his breath.

“Okay, now. A word of warning: Whatever you do, do not address her as granny, gran, ma’am, or any other title that might suggest she’s anywhere close to or slightly over fifty. I did that once, in jest, and I still can’t hear quite right out of my left ear.”

Not waiting for a reaction out of them, the medic turned on his heel and walked through the doorway.

Din and Paz shared a look before following behind.

“Dr. Neraim?” Lant called into a large central room cluttered with service droids in different stages of completion. 

Lant had only mentioned the loth-wolf, so it was surprising to see a lava meerkat climbing up on a stone table in the center of the room. On the floor, a loth cat was bust licking its front paw. Looking up at them, it gave them a sniff then resumed its grooming session.

Against the wall, seemingly powered down, were a couple of different lizards, a tooka, and a mini vulptex. Over by the doorway on the opposite side of the room were droid skeletons. They weren’t finished, and Din couldn’t tell what they would end up being as he watched them roam around on all fours.

Though it was accurate to say his droid aversion had tempered from steady loathing down to a guarded kind of watchfulness, being surrounded by them still didn’t feel great and Din glanced at the baby leaning over the medic’s arm, reaching for the meerkat.

Stepping closer to the child, Din looked down at the animal on the table. It stood on its back legs and Lant extended his hand as he called again for the droid programmer.

“Dr. Neraim?”

“One moment...” a female voice answered from the backroom.

Grabbing the medic’s fingers, the meerkat stood on its hind legs. Din kept a keen eye as the baby stretched his little claws out, squealing as he stroked over the droid’s brown fur.

Cluing into the conflict brewing in Din’s mind, the medic turned toward him, “You can stand down. Everything in here is safe.”

Paz’s hand landed on his shoulder as he walked past to crouch down in front of a white wolf. Laying on the floor, it looked like it was sleeping. Like the others, Din was impressed by how much it looked like an actual wolf. If he had seen it anywhere except this laboratory, there would be an excellent chance that Din would never have known it was a droid.

The heavy gunner laid a hand on the canine’s head. Opening its eyes, the wolf’s purple gaze lifted to Paz’s visor. The Mandalorian scrubbed his gloved fingers past the wolf’s ears, burrowing them into the thick fur on her neck. Groaning with pleasure, the wolf smacked its chops a couple of times as she tipped her head. Closing her eyes again, she started laying it on even thicker. Tongue hanging limply over her bottom jaw, she gave Paz exaggerated, panting breaths, drawing a soft snicker from the large Mandalorian.

“Sorry, so sorry to keep you waiting...”

Din looked up at the sound of the programmer’s voice as a Bothan entered from the backroom. 

Standing about four feet tall, her silver hair was pulled into a loose braid and piled on top of her head. Her long face was covered in tan fur that became white at her nose and mouth. Pointed ears extended toward the back of her head, and a line of silver studs pierced the pink flesh from the very tip down to her fur-covered lobes.

Wearing a white tunic and pants, her royal blue robes billowed behind her brisk pace as she approached Lant. Leaning down, the medic greeted her with a one-armed hug.

She reciprocated by pulling back to jab him in the side with a pointed claw, “Would it hurt you to have a meal once in a while?”

Lant responded with a full-body eyeroll, giving Din the impression the medic’s inadequate waist size was a common critique of hers.

Ignoring the drama, the scientist addressed the baby, “And, who is this little one?” Smiling wide, the doctor’s white teeth showed past the curve of her black lips as she smiled down at the child, then back up at Lant.

“You finally found someone nice to settle down with and start a family.”

Paz walked up to the table as Lant leveled her with a flat expression. “Mer, in the three days since you last saw me, do you actually think I suddenly landed a spouse and a kid?”

Giving him a shrug like she couldn’t care less, the programmer touched the green claw wrapped around Lant’s thumb, “Maybe if you didn’t work so much, you could find the time to have those things.”

Lant dragged in a breath, “And on that note... Dr. Mer Neraim,” turning to his side, Lant gestured to him, “This is my patient, Mando—the little one’s father.”

“Mando,” the Bothan extended her hand. Din accepted it as she told him, “Pleased to meet you.”

“You can…” Din looked at Paz in silent questioning. Knowing what he was considering, the heavy gunner gave a shrug in return—Paz didn’t have an opinion either way. The desire for simple communication chose for him, and he said, “You can call me Din.”

“Din.” She smiled up at him and released his hand, “Lant told me you’d be coming by to select a service droid.”

“Yes.”

Nodding, she picked up a datapad on the table and started swiping past screens, “Lant went ahead and gave me a brief rundown of the spinal and brain injury you’ve suffered. We’ll be programming the droid to alert you to impending bouts of spasticity, along with the occasional migraine, anxiety, and disassociation. Is that right?”

Swallowing, Din told himself not to fidget as his ailments were read aloud to the room. After all, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if it was a secret to the ones with him, and by the clinical manner in how the programmer listed everything off, it all seemed so... everyday to her.

Still, a softness overcame her professionalism as she extended a hand through the silence that had momentarily closed off his words. Touching the sleeve of his shirt, she urged, “Please don’t feel uncomfortable. I’m here to help. To do that, I need to know the full extent of your condition.”

Clearing his throat, Din swallowed for a second time and replied, “Yes, that’s all correct.”

“Is there anything I missed? Anything else you would like the droid to help with?”

Din shook his head as Lant set the baby down on the floor. Climbing on top of Din’s boot, the kid gripped the side of his leg then hopped off as he wandered over to the tooka under the table.

Lant piped up with, “Add in DPT.”

“Good call,” nodded Neraim as she tapped at the screen on her datapad.

“DPT?” asked Paz, flanking Lant on his other side. “What’s that?”

Turning to him, Lant explained, “Deep pressure therapy.

Din asked, “Which is what, exactly?”

“So, when anxiety spikes, the fight or flight switch in our brain gets flipped, making it difficult for it to organize sensory inputs. It misreads every sound, sight, or sensation around as crucial, making it almost impossible to calm down, ending up tripping the individual into a panic attack. When pressure is exerted over the body, it’s like hitting the reset button. The mind homes in on that sensation and results in a state of calm.”

Paz looked between Lant and the programmer, “So, how does a wolf perform therapy?”

Dr. Neraim glanced up from her device, “If Din selects a droid with enough weight, they will use their body to cover him, mainly over his chest. The pressure would subdue his nervous system and swing it back into balance.”

Din turned to Lant, “That’s why you only mentioned the wolf. You were thinking of its body mass compared to the other droids available.”

The medic nodded as Paz addressed the Bothan again, “So, this DPT, it’s the same thing as when Lant told us a tight hug could ground Din when his anxiety goes on the rise?”

“Yes. It’s exactly like that.” 

“Okay.” Din drew in a breath, “Let’s also include that."

“Done and done. I’ll start with this. If sometime down the road you realize there is another job you’d like it to perform, as long as it’s in the preset parameter options, I can send you the update and you can download it into the droid’s system.”

“Now...” setting down the datapad again, the Bothan stood before Din, “A crucial element in having a service droid is the bond between the unit and its handler. The bond brings forth a sense of trust and comfort.”

Stepping to the side, the doctor gave a sharp whistle and a handful of wolves congregated around them.

“If you think you would like to go with one of the wolf droids. I suggest we take a moment and discuss personality markers. By asking a series of questions, I can design the droid’s mannerisms and personality so that you would have to try very hard _not_ to forge a bond with it.”

She smiled up at him, “If you have the time, that is. If not, then you’re more than welcome to check out the wolves as they are, maybe see if one feels right to you.”

“I have the time...” Din answered. Pressing his fingertips against the tabletop in front of him, he braced himself, adding, “...though I think I need to sit down now.”

“Oh, of course!”

Paz shot a look his way as the Bothan grabbed the office chair by her workstation and started back with it. The electric zapping sensation shooting up and down his legs were becoming harder to ignore. They _hurt,_ and Din leaned heavier on the hand braced against the table.

Lant took him by the arm, and Din accepted the support he offered. Grabbing the medic for stability, he allowed himself to be eased into the chair. It was a surprise when the white wolf walked forward, nudging her snout under his wrist. Giving her head a toss, she shoved under his arm and her chin came down over his thigh plate.

Din looked down at her as he adjusted himself in the chair. Her eyebrows danced back and forth over her purple eyes as she looked back at him. Even with his gloves, he could tell her fur was thick and dense. Smoothing his hand over her head, a smile started tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Paz sat perched on the edge of the table in front of him. Crossing his arms, the Mandalorian in blue armor asked, “You okay to continue?”

"Yes. Just needed to sit down.”

“Are you sure?” asked Neraim. “There is no rush to finish this today.”

Din gave her a nod, “Thank you, but I’m fine.” 

A cursory glance seemed to satisfy her concern and she went to grab herself a different chair. 

Scooting in close to her computer, she got back to business. “There are only twenty-five questions. None are especially personal, but if you would prefer to answer them in private, say the word.” 

Din glanced at Paz, then to where Lant was on the other side of the room, trying to talk his _ad_ out of eating the lizard droid.

Turning back, Din told her, “We can begin.”

* * *

Over the next thirty minutes, Dr. Neraim asked the questions and Din gave his responses.

She’d been correct in her assertion that the topics included nothing overly sensitive or personal. Throughout the process, the wolf who had laid her chin on his leg had remained close by and Din found himself idly petting her as he thought about the responses he was gave. The others remained close, but for whatever reason, that one behaved almost as if she knew him. It was kind of nice.

“Very good.” The programmer set down her datapad and folded her hands on the table. “I feel very good about this. Your answers were simple and to the point.” She smiled, “Which makes the programming side of my job so much easier.”

The Bothan tipped her head at the white wolf, “She seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Din looked at the droid, “Can she do that? Form opinions on who she does or does not like?”

She smiled, “Yes. It’s crucial that she does. Would you like to choose her, or...”

She’d trailed off, but the rest of her offer was evident, and Din didn’t have to think too hard on it. Before he made any decisions, though, there was one more thing he still needed to check out. 

At some point, Paz had acquired the baby and Din gestured at the guy, “Bring him over here. Let’s see how she is with him.” 

Holding the foundling against his chest, Paz crouched down beside Din's knee and the canine moved in. Smelling the baby’s neck, she was sniffing with deep huffing breaths. 

Arching back against Paz’s cuirass, his _ad_ bent to the side, trying to escape the wet, black nose moving under his chin and over his belly. Loosing a shrill kind of squeal, the baby lunged forward, draping his body over her face and grabbing fistfuls of the white fur. He was pulling on her cheeks as she pressed her head against his chest, pinning him back against Paz. 

Grinning behind his visor, Din asked the Bothan, “I’m going to assume she’s programmed to be tolerant of young ones?”

“Without a doubt. I guarantee that is one thing you don’t have to be concerned over.” Pointing her stylus at the wolf, she stated, “That wolf will have more patience with your son than even the most amazing grandma the galaxy has ever seen.” 

Paz stood with the baby and leaned against the edge of the table again, “She seems like she’d be a good fit for us.” 

A long, pink tongue anointed the side of his silver helm with slobber and Paz barked out a laugh as Din cringed back a touch. Laying a hand against the wolf’s chest, he directed her back a step. “Okay, I get the point.”

Dr. Neraim chuckled, “Any idea what you would like her name to be?”

“She doesn’t have a name already?”

“She does. However, when I program her, I can change it in her memory to whatever you want.”

Paz was bouncing the baby in his arms as he asked, “What’s her name right now?” 

“Chi-chi.”

All three men recoiled back with matching sounds of revulsion. Lant was the only one to voice his outwardly.

 _“Chi-chi,_ Mer?”

The programmer looked between the four of them, “What’s wrong with Chi-chi?”

The baby stuck out his tongue, blowing a raspberry.

Lant pointed at him, “That sums it up.”

Leaning her elbow against the table, Din picked up on a spark of warning aimed at his friend. Eyebrow arching, the Bothan insisted, “Chi-chi is a _good_ name.”

“Maybe for a lizard or that meerkat over there. But for a _loth-wolf,_ Mer?” Spreading his hands apart, Lant beseeched her with a simple, “...come on.”

Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her arms, “Okay, what do you suggest, then?”

The three of them became quiet as they looked at the wolf.

Leaned against the side of his leg, she looked back at them.

The baby offered up a healthy dose of spit bubbles.

Silence persisted a moment longer until Paz jutted the lip of his helm at the wolf, “Kyramla.”

Din looked over, “Really?”

“Why not? One look at her, and that’s what people will think anyway.”

“That’s Mando’a, right?” asked Lant. “What does it mean?”

Din looked back at the wolf as he answered, _“Kyramla._ Fatal... deadly.” He faced Lant again, “Along those lines.”

Standing between them, the medic was nodding along in agreement as he stared at the wolf.

Paz added, “Or, you can just cut to the chase and name her Killer.”

Din cocked his head at the trainer, “Kyramla it is.”

_TBC_

Mando’a Translations:

_ad—_ son

 _nyac—_ no


	4. Take Me At My Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz wants to do something for Din. Din has a hard time allowing himself to accept the gesture.

__

_mir’shupur_ —brain injury

There was a speeder waiting for them outside of the droid programmer’s hut.

Din had no doubt that Lant had called for one while he was busy going over some last-minute details with the programmer. It had been the right call on the medic’s part. Between the initial twenty-minute walk and standing around the Bothan’s laboratory for a length of time, walking back to meet up with Cara wasn’t going to be happening for him.

Their first stop was the med center. As the driver was pulling the vehicle to a stop, Lant passed his ID badge to her, saying, “Just add their bill to mine.”

Reaching forward, Paz gripped the man’s shoulder, “That isn’t necessary.”

Smacking a hand down over the one on his shoulder, Lant jumped out of the front seat. He grinned while reclipping his badge, “Consider it compensation for the extra fuel you used to come back here when I should have thought of this months ago.”

Paz sank back into the seat beside him, “Thank you.”

The medic responded with a nod. Standing beside Din, he reached in to rub the child’s ear. “See ya, bud. Stay awesome.” Looking up, the baby preened as he waved with both hands. Snickering, Lant stepped back, his hands landing on his hips as he addressed Din, “See you back here in about three weeks?”

“What happened to every eight?”

“I want to see you in three and recheck your progress since the setback; then we can go back to our old schedule.”

Din hated the inconvenience but trusted Lant’s judgment. “Alright, three it is.”

“Good deal.” Lant switched his gaze to Paz. Swirling a finger in Din’s general direction, the medic requested, “Keep these two out of trouble for me?”

Din looked at the foundling in his lap as Paz pointed out, “That, _baar’ur,_ is a tall order _.”_ Din wasn’t sure if Lant understood the Mando’a word for medic. If not, the full smile he flashed them said he got the gist.

Throwing a hand up as he turned, Lant waved and walked into the med center, and Paz directed the driver toward Cara’s office.

* * *

As soon as he stepped into the marshal’s office, Din became wise to the fact that Lant had ratted him out.

Sitting at her desk, Cara looked up, thrusting a finger at the chair opposite her while nailing him with a stern look.

“Sit.”

Her look was one of warning, suggesting he not argue, and he didn’t. He also didn’t give in to the sigh that had been building over the last two hours—a product of all the extra attention directed his way that day. It was unwanted and irksome, but he had friends now, and friends cared. It’s what made them hover as they looked out for him. Din wasn’t used to being the object of such intimate focus, but the thought did cross his mind that it wasn’t _all_ bad.

Annoying and bothersome at times, yes, but not all bad.

Easing himself into the chair, Din steadied his foundling in his lap. Standing on his thigh, the kid was doing the happy dance as Cara rounded her desk, reaching for him.

“C’mere, you pint-sized terror.”

The baby lunged for her and Cara snatched him up, tossing him into the air and making him shriek with glee. Catching him, she tucked him into her arm and turned to greet Paz.

“Hey, Big Blue.” They clasped forearms, and she grinned, “Glad to see you’re surviving the perfect storm that is Clan Djarin.”

Paz snickered softly as Din rolled his eyes. That made twice in the past ten minutes that someone insinuated he and his foundling were essentially walking disasters.

They weren’t _that_ bad, and leveling the former shock trooper with his visor, Din told her so.

“We’re not that bad.”

Cara laid a kind hand to the side of his shoulder, “Perhaps.” She raised an eyebrow at Paz as she turned away, “Then again...”

Another snicker pulled from the large Mandalorian as he settled into the chair beside him and Din just folded his arms over his chest as Cara reclaimed her own seat. Holding his foundling, Cara shoved away the sheathed blade he lunged for, passing him a controller instead.

The baby _ooh’d_ as he accepted it and selected a button.

The jail cell door behind them opened with a metallic clunk.

Ignoring it, Cara propped her feet on her desk, “So, you going to tell me what brought you all back here after just a couple of weeks?”

She looked at Din, “I know you met with Lant.” All kidding aside, she was serious about this part, her tone softening as she focused on him, “You doing okay?”

The baby was having a serious discussion with the controller in his hand as he pressed a button.

The cell door banged shut again as Din asked, “Lant didn’t tell you?”

“Lant doesn’t tell me anything when it comes to your recovery. Patient confidentiality is something he will not compromise, no matter how well we know each other. So, no, he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

The baby caught sight of the stray meerkat Cara claimed not to feed, but Din knew otherwise. Whining, his _ad_ struggled in her grasp, wanting down, and Cara set him on the floor.

The cell door opened.

Din nodded, “I’m okay.” He considered leaving it there but then figured when it came to everything that happened since taking in his foundling, Cara had been with them from almost the very beginning. She had been invaluable to him during the weeks he’d been laid up in the med center. He owed her more than he’d ever be able to repay and figured cluing her into new developments was the least he could do.

His kid cooed at the rodent. Clutching the remote in one hand, he made a grab for its tail with the other.

The cell door banged shut.

Din explained, “We’re back because Lant knows a programmer that builds service droids.”

Cara shot him a crooked grin, “Nice. I knew a few people who ended up with one after the war. It helped them weather their battle fatigue.” Her feet dropped back off the desktop and she leaned forward, “It really made a positive impact for them. You come by to check them out...thinking about getting one?”

“Actually,” Din glanced over at Paz, then back to Cara. “I already picked one out. She’ll be ready tomorrow afternoon.”

The cell door creaked open again.

“What’d you get? You don’t seem to be the kind of guy to walk around with an iguana on your shoulder.”

Din grinned, “No.”

The meerkat made a break for it, and his kid took off in immediate pursuit.

Paz spoke up, “It’s a loth-wolf.”

Looking between the heavy gunner and the shock trooper, Din interjected, “A _miniature_ loth-wolf.”

Cara grinned, “But still big as hell. Right?”

“Indeed,” confirmed Paz.

In true Cara fashion, she didn’t ask what duties the droid would assist him with, and Din appreciated that. As it were, his condition had been flapping out in the wind long enough and he was eager to pack it away in exchange for almost any other topic.

Cara unknowingly fed straight into that desire by changing the focus of their conversation. “Since you all are staying the night on Nevarro, how about you let me put you up in one of the vacant municipal huts? It’s the offseason for the Lava Garden’s caretaker. How’s four walls and a roof sound?”

Paz bit first. Leaning in, his arms rested over his knees as he inquired, “Does it come with a hot water supply that can endure more than a five-minute shower?”

The corners of Cara’s eyes crinkled as she laughed, “Twenty minutes, at least.”

Paz pointed at her, “Sold.”

She laughed and looked at Din, “How about you let me steal the little guy for the duration of your stay. You can come by and pick him up here tomorrow, after you get the wolf.”

Din stared at her.

Cara stared back. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Leaning in, she challenged him, _“What?”_

Din smiled behind his visor, “Nothing. You just surprised me. Not many people can do that.”

“Surprised you? What... because I missed the womp rat?”

Ignoring the pull in his back, Din matched her challenge by leaning toward her.

“Because you don’t _do_ the baby thing, Dune. Remember?”

The cell door banged shut.

“Fair,” she sat back, “But do you remember all the quality time the kid and I had while you were getting back on your feet a few months ago?”

Cara wasn’t being sarcastic. She was legitimately asking if he remembered. It was a kindness she was showing him because she cared. Reminding himself of that helped soften the sting behind the fact that it wasn’t a frivolous question.

Giving her a slow nod of his helm, Din sat back also, “I remember.”

Cara shrugged and looked at the baby who sat in the corner, trying to feed the meerkat the controller. “He grew on me.”

Din could hear the soft smile behind the visor of “Big Blue” as the guy admitted, “Yeah. He’ll do that to you.” 

“Besides,” Cara passed down a piece of jerky to the tiny claws now surfacing past her leg, “I’m thinking you both could probably use the downtime.” 

* * *

Din couldn’t remember the last time he had a planned night off since becoming a _buir_. There were all the times Cara had looked after his son a few months ago in the med center and the times that Paz had him while Din was either riding out a migraine, crashed from a spastic attack, or soused on pain meds.

In his book, none of those counted, not when they’d all been instances out of his control.

Now though, it was an odd sensation, the two of them being childless for the night. More so for him than Paz, but judging by the way the older Mandalorian has wandered around the hut since steaming himself in the shower, it seemed he too was feeling the vacuum the baby’s absence left behind.

Sitting at the round wooden table in the kitchen area, Din looked up from his datapad and observed Paz’s nervous energy at work. He was antsy. The hut was small, and you could only walk around the place so many times.

That was when the security checks had begun.

Again, Din watched him ensure they’d pulled the shades tight and, yes, the door was indeed locked. Like Paz, he had decided to tempt fate by not donning either his armor or his helmet after cleaning up. He couldn’t exactly fault the guy for the security checks—at least, not the first three times.

Leaving Paz to his procedures, Din exhaled a deep breath, shifting in his chair as he looked back down at the document that laid out all he needed to know about the service droid. Halting, he grimaced at the sharp pain that spiked across his back. Bracing an elbow against the tabletop, he shifted his spine into a better position.

Din had been on his feet almost all day and was beginning to pay for it. He knew he would. It was the most he’s walked around unaided since Paz stepped between him and that posse on Jakku. He knew there’d be consequences for him later after he stopped, and his muscles cooled. He was already stiffening up.

The shower had felt great on his aches. He had plenty of hot water, even though he’d gone second, after virtually shoving Paz into the refresher at gunpoint. Din had insisted he took the first one, threatening to flush the vactube on him if he considered getting out in under fifteen minutes.

Earlier in Cara’s office, he’d noticed Paz pining over the prospect of being able to take his time under the hot water before the supply ran out, and Din couldn’t fault him for it. The hot water tank on the _Crest_ was nearly worthless in its function. If you asked more than five minutes out of it, things got real cold real fast. He’d been used to it for more than a decade, but just days after Paz joined them on their travels, it had become evident that the heavy gunner had forgotten. _That_ had been hilarious. 

For the record: Din had warned Paz ahead of time, a fact that would become a constant debate between the two of them for years to come.

_Four days after Paz flew him to Nevarro, Din negotiated his medic into releasing him from the med center early. Making his way into the Razor Crest, he and Paz butted heads over who was going to get them off-world. Paz hadn’t been wrong in his argument that Din should take it easy and let him do it, and Din was feeling too helpless lately to allow him to do it._

_Din moved carefully toward the cockpit while Paz bit out a comment about him being insufferably stubborn—again, not all wrong—and Din ignored it as he got them off-world and into a hyperspace lane. Setting the Nav, he listened to the modulated mutterings coming from behind Paz’s helm as he got pulled out of his chair and helped him to his rack. His kid scrambled in after him and Din waited for the burrowing to begin. Sleep was already pulling at him; he’d be out before his foundling ever got situated._

_Throwing the blanket over them, Paz had mentioned something about grabbing a shower, and that was when Din had warned him about the hot water supply. About seven minutes later, Din was yanked back to consciousness by a crash and a clipped shout from below._

_Pushing himself onto an elbow, Din nearly forced himself to his feet to check on the guy, but then came another shout, a curse that time. Hootin’ and hollering, Paz’s baritone rose about six octaves as he banged around in the small shower stall some more, undoubtedly trying to hurry the hell up and get out of there._

_Din would never have guessed Paz capable of reaching the notes he was hitting. Staring past the doorway to his quarters, he could not stop laughing. The baby looked at him and started giggling like the kid at school who didn’t quite get the joke, and Din laughed harder. Snorting, a full belly laugh ripped from the kid and_ _by the time the pipes stopped knocking and Paz finished singing opera, they were both in tears._

Din had laughed so hard that day he ended up pulling something minor in his back. It had been worth it, a hundred percent—worth it.

Regardless, with everything Paz had done for them recently, after settling in the Lava Garden’s caretaker hut on Nevarro, Din had insisted Paz take the first hot shower. When he had stepped out of the refresher, his skin had a bright flush to it as a billow of steam followed him into the one-room living quarters. He’d looked relaxed.

Now, though.

Correcting in his seat again, Din called to Paz. The guy turned, and Din told him, “You’re wearing a path into the floor. Sit down.”

Giving the window one last look, Paz wrung the back of his neck with his hand as he came over, “I feel naked.”

“I know. Me too.”

Paz plunked down into the chair across from him. “We could always just armor up.”

Rubbing his chest through the thin material of his top, Din looked at the blue and silver _buy’cese_ on the table. Sitting beside each other, their visors looked back as he said, “I don’t... think I want to. It’s strange. This...” he gestured to their helms, “…it’s all just... new—for me.”

“Yeah.”

“Buttoned up in the _Crest_ is one thing, but—”

“Sitting in someone else’s hut on Nevarro is something entirely different.”

“Yes.”

A little scowl settled on Paz’s face as he thought.

Silence settled between them.

Still on the same wavelength, Paz pointed out, “Cara said Nevarro was all cleaned up now—safe.”

“Right.”

“I’ve only met her twice. How much do you trust her?”

That was easy, and Din smiled, “With my life.”

Paz cocked his head, “Okay, then.”

Silence overtook their conversation again, and Din looked back down at the datapad. He was partway through the next page when Paz started drumming his fingers on the table. That continued for about half a minute before the guy slapped down a hand and stood up.

Din glanced up as Paz walked across the room to the bed. Sitting at the foot of it, he pulled back the zipper to his rucksack and dug around inside.

Going back to the document, Din read down a little further, then stopped. Lowering the device, he looked at the other man, “I don’t remember talking to her about adding a program for Kyramla to double as a guard dog. Did I space out on that part or something?”

Pulling something from the bag, Paz chuckled as he shook his head, “No, _beroya_. I forgot Lant had suggested it.” Din followed him as he returned to the table. Grabbing his silver helm, Paz moved it in front of himself as he sat. “Your medic figured with the amount of outer-rim traveling we do, it wouldn’t be a bad idea. Especially if I’m not around if you start having a difficult time. Killer can keep you safe while your defenses are down, deterring the opportunistic nature of beskar thieves.”

Din hummed in consideration at that as he went back to the document. He was reading about how the wolf alerted to an episode of spasticity when Paz called him.

“Hey, Djarin.”

Looking up, Din watched him rotate his helmet around, saying, “I want to paint that on your helm.”

Wincing at the stretch, Din reached across the table and Paz passed him the helmet. Sinking back into his chair, his heart clenched as he looked at what Paz had sketched with a grease pencil.

Positioned above the left side of his visor sat a black mark. Small but immediately noticeable were the letters M and S. Scripted as Mandalorian letters, it was a known sigil within their community, and it stood for: _mir’shupur_ —brain injury.

Swallowing, Din was still looking at it as he said, “I know about that sigil.”

Paz nodded, “It would be a general heads-up to other Mandalorians about your injury—because at some point, _beroya_ , we’ll have to return to the covert. Mandalorians take care of their own, Din. Anyone who saw it, they’d look out for you, and they’d lend a hand if you needed it.”

Din felt the pensive grimace as it pulled at his face.

He was still looking at the sigil as Paz told him, “Plus, I guarantee you, if you had that on your helm the day you got jumped on Jakku, it never would have happened.”

Din wanted to refute that last bit, entirely out of spite for the assholes that complicated his life more than it already had been. He couldn’t, though.

Paz was right.

As a community, Mandalorians _did_ look out for their own. Wearing the sigil, Din might not have been able to expect those who attacked him to sit with him if they had found him pressed into an outside corner of a building, holding his helm as a migraine tried to crack open his skull. He could have counted on them to leave him alone, though, partially out of respect for a fellow soldier with a debilitating injury and partly out of reverence for the _other thing._

And that other thing was why he couldn’t accept Paz’s offer.

Laying his helm on the table between them, Din said, “That sigil... it’s also the equivalent of receiving a medal for combat service. I can’t accept that.”

Paz’s brow pulled together as he scowled. “Why the hell not?”

“Because of the reason behind finding myself in that battle.”

“Because you didn’t keep the kid. Because you turned him in and then rescued him.”

“Yes.”

Paz reached across the table, his large hand closing around Din’s wrist. Eyebrows drawing closer over his blue eyes, Paz leveled him with an intense stare.

“That Moff, Din, he still would have come after you. He would have found out who had the kid, the tracking fobs would still have been active, and that battle would have still taken place. The only exception I can see is that perhaps you might not have run into Cara on Sorgan and she wouldn’t have been there backing you up. Different decisions, _vod_ , produce different paths.”

Din turned away and that hand on his wrist squeezed. Stroking his thumb over his pulse point, Paz told him, “Everyone makes mistakes. You were functioning on autopilot, not thinking as you went through the motions. It’s something you’d brainwashed yourself into: Hunt the asset, transport the asset, deliver the asset, and move on to the next one. It must have been like muscle memory for you by that point, but the kid broke through. You came around. You went _back_ for him, Din. In the end, you did the right thing. _That’s_ what’s important here.”

Looking at his helm sitting across the table, the sigil stared back as Din asked, “You want to know the worst part about all that?”

“What.”

Drawing back his hand, Din pressed it against the tabletop as he stood. His back pulled hard from how long he’d been sitting, forcing out a grimace, and Paz moved like he was going to help.

Din staved him off by holding up his other hand. 

Paz sat again as Din took a few steps, then turned back. Looking Paz straight in the eye, his breaths became shaky as he admitted something he’d thought about every coherent day, for months.

“Paz... I don’t remember turning him in.”

The weight of that admission settled on Paz’s shoulders. Folding his arms over his chest, a new level of concern surfaced as he slowly leaned back in his seat to listen. 

“Greef told me I did.” Din ran a hand through his hair as he thought, “There is irrefutable proof that I had... but not having any memory of it? It makes me physically _sick_ , Paz, thinking that I hunted down my _ad_ , a foundling that should have been entirely safe within my care, and fucking _gave_ him to the Imps.” 

Paz shot him an assessing look, “You remember other things from that day?”

Hands braced on his hips, Din looked at the floor as he thought. Nodding, he said, “I remember landing here with him. I remember wearing my old armor—it had been damaged, falling off... The next thing I can remember...” Raising his eyes, Din sighed, “It’s a few days later, and I’m on Sorgan wearing new armor.”

“You don’t remember bringing the beskar back to the covert?”

Din shook his head, then gestured to his armor on the chair, “Obviously I did, though. I remember Arvala-7. I remember meeting… Kuiil—” Cutting himself off, Din flung out an arm in frustration, “—who I’ve been told I asked for his help and, by the way, is now fucking _dead._ Just like most of our covert—”

“Stop.”

“—because of one _fucking_ asinine choice—”

“Din, slow down a sec.”

“Shit, Paz... I’m leaving a fucking trail of death in the wake of one catastrophic decision that I can’t even remember. How long before it catches up with me and consumes you and the baby too?”

Din’s anxiety took over and he started pacing.

Watching him, Paz replied, “Nothing is going to happen to us, Din.”

He stopped as a burst of sour laughter bubbled out, “You don’t know that. Not when I’ve managed to evoke the wrath of the kriffing empire upon myself.”

“The empire isn’t what it was, Din.”

“It is, Paz.”

“Din—”

“It’s underground, but it is still alive—”

Paz leaned forward in his seat, “Okay, hold on—”

“It’s functioning. It still has power and endless resources. You saw what it did to Mandalore—”

For the second time in only minutes, Paz suggested he slow down, but he was on a roll. Din was spilling thoughts, fears, and regrets that he’d kept trapped in his mind for over a full year. It was like he’d nudged loose one card, and now the entire deck was falling to pieces around him. He never felt the shakes set in. He wasn’t aware of how fast his breathing was until he couldn’t. He was spiraling and needed to get a grip. 

A wave of numbness settled over him, buzzing through him as he stood frozen, panting and staring at his shaking hands. He blinked and then he was looking at them from farther away, like they weren’t even his anymore. _Fuck,_ he could feel himself pulling away from his present. He was racing toward disassociating when Paz’s massive arms banded around him from behind. 

Hugging Din against himself, Paz squeezed tightly. It was the deep-pressure therapy the Bothan had talked about in her lab, and Din could feel it as that reset button on his nervous system got pushed. Relief surged through him and Din breathed out a short exhale, his heart rate and breathing already responding as a rush of endorphins flooded his system.

The flames of his anxiety continued to lick at him though, and Din urged the man holding him together, _“Tighter.”_

Mouth beside his ear, Paz murmured, “I squeeze you any tighter, _beroya_ , and I’m bound to either suffocate you or break a rib.” 

Paz’s soft breath warmed the side of his ear as he spoke. They hadn’t been this close since they were young and the shock of it worked to his advantage, pulling Din back into himself even more. It wasn’t enough.

Shaking his head, Din breathed a promise, “You won’t. Paz, please.”

Paz sighed his disagreement, then adjusted his hold and increased the strength of his embrace.

Most of the air in Din’s lungs pushed out with a breathy wheeze, but it was exactly what he needed. Feeling himself beginning to settle, he tried not to think about how the brain injury robbed him of the stable vice grip he’d once had over his emotions. 

Some days it felt like his feelings were controlling him instead of the other way around. There was no rhyme or reason to it that he could use to predict when his mind would short circuit. Lant explained how his brain was still building new pathways to compensate for the ones damaged. It would take time—years. Even then, there was no guarantee that he’d ever be the person he was before the injury.

Part of him was okay with that.

He was okay with remaining who he was now—a Mandalorian sickened at the thought of turning a foundling over to the enemy for payment. If he never went back to the person who had done that, he’d gladly accept having to deal with a disability that sometimes shoved a good day straight onto its ass.

Din’s breath left him in a wheezy exhale and Paz loosened his arms, “Better?”

“Almost.”

Squeezing again, Paz backed off on the intensity, but it remained enough to keep the anxiety from twisting further through his chest. Holding tight, Paz spoke by his ear again. “What you did then doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over with. Done.”

Din scoffed, looking away.

Giving him a small jostle, Paz pressed his cheek against the side of Din’s head as he held him. “Listen to me. At this point, right now, all you can do is _learn_ from it, _verd_. You can’t go back and change it. You can’t even remember it. Not one damned good thing will result from letting those thoughts tear you apart.”

Closing his eyes, Din exhaled hard.

Leaning back against Paz, Din thumped his head against his unarmored shoulder, and Paz released the embrace, “Come on.” Keeping an arm around him, Paz steered them toward the bed. “Sit down for a minute.

Din was still feeling a bit shaky as Paz helped him take a seat on the side of the bed. Sitting behind him, he resumed the bear hug, firm but not crushing. It was enough to keep the endorphins flowing while he mentally talked down the anxiety mocking him from a dark corner in his mind. 

They remained like that for a while longer before his thoughts quieted and the vice on his chest released. 

He sighed and Paz loosened his hold, “Better now?”

“Yes. _Vor’e.”_

“You’re welcome.”

Din leaned forward and braced a hand on his knee as Paz touched his side, “Long day for you today; how’s the back doing?”

“Ah,” Din winced. “It’s tight.”

A hum of acknowledgment came from over his shoulder. Sitting behind him, Paz pushed up the back of his shirt, ordering, “Lift your arms.”

He did, and Paz pushed it the rest of the way off. His hands settled over Din’s back, thumbs moving against the muscles along his spine, and Din braced against his knees with both hands. The sensation was an odd mix of pain and relief, and it felt great. Dropping his head, he breathed out a groaning exhale.

There was a smile in Paz’s voice as he asked, _“Jate aalar?”_

 _“Lek,”_ he groaned again as Paz’s hands moved over a tender area, carefully working it into submission. Fingers trailed in a straight line between his vertebrae and Din knew he’d found the incision scar from the two surgeries he had after taking Gideon down.

Paz spoke from behind him, “I’m surprised you have a scar, considering all the bacta you’ve had.”

“Is it bad?”

“No. It’s noticeable but faint.”

They became quiet, Paz working on his back while Din’s mind worked on him. He was thinking about what Paz said to him after he’d refused the sigil. Pondering over the man’s words, Din revisited his thoughts from earlier. 

He was different after the brain injury. There could be no doubt when he knew, he fucking _knew_ , if he had it to do all over again, he would have brought the child back to the covert. He couldn’t say for sure if he would have kept him or not. That was hard to speculate on, now that he’d bonded with the little guy _—loves him._ Trying to picture his life without the baby, it hurt, muddling his thoughts. He didn’t like to spend time in that scenario.

However, realizing all that, it made him wonder something.

“Am I...”

Din didn’t finish and Paz stopped massaging. “Are you, what?”

“Am I much different? Compared to what you remember of me from the past?”

Hands resting on the curve of his shoulders, Paz sighed, “That’s... not a simple question to answer, Din. I mean, how far back are we talking, because if you’re asking about the last few years...” His hands rubbed down his arms and then back up again. “I can’t answer that. Not in a way that would be fair to you.”

“Because of your opinion of me.”

There was a pause, then Paz questioned, “What do you mean, my opinion of you?”

Din thought over how he should put it but then decided to just lay it out there for what it was.

“You grew to dislike me.”

Paz’s hands closed around Din’s arms as he drew closer, “That’s not true.”

“Paz, it’s okay—”

“Hey.” The grip tightened as his tone lowered, “That. Is not. True.”

Something warm and wanting began to stir inside him. Glancing over his shoulder, Din was quiet as Paz released his grip.

Paz smoothed his thumbs over the area as he explained, “I never disliked you. I disagreed about the people you chose to do business with—the unnecessary dangers you kept walking into. That along with frustration over how we’d grown apart... and maybe some hurt in there as well, it complicated my opinions... and my actions.”

The last part of Paz’s statement came across weighted, and Din turned more to look at him, “Your actions?” Their gazes locked and he asked, “What are you talking about? What actions?”

Paz sighed, “There are things I’ve done and... said, that I regret.”

Din frowned, “To me?”

“Yes.”

They continued to look at each other. Din began to shake his head, “The last few years, we’ve rarely spoken. I can’t think of one time you might have—” 

The heavy infantryman looked away, “Can we not get into this right now?”

Staring at the other man and the flush that colored his face, Din got the impression that he was missing a huge piece of the puzzle. Paz turned back to look at him. A load of conflict scarred his features, and Din nodded. “Sure.”

The look of conflict faded and Paz gave him a nod of thanks. Lowering his gaze, he started working again. 

Turning around, Din gave it a moment before adding, “But, I’d like to revisit this soon.”

“We will.”

Din was frustrated over being left in the dark on this. Whatever it was, it was big; if the other man’s reaction was anything to go by. Things were good between them now. The prospect of there being something unaddressed that could ruin what they seemed to be rebuilding, it worried him. It made him want to drill the man, demanding to have the details right then.

Better to have it out in the open and resolved than hidden and lurking. 

His concern over the matter disintegrated as Paz hit an area that made him hiss, arching away on reflex. 

“Whoa—” the touch of Paz’s hands vanished as he asked, “What happened just now?” 

Bowing his back into a careful cat-stretch, Din released a breath with it, “Just an especially tight spot.”

Paz still wasn’t touching him and Din didn’t need to turn around to know the guy’s hands were still raised in mock surrender as he asked, “You want me to stop or work it?”

“Keep going; if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay, just...” The flat of Paz’s palms settled over him again, their warmth soaking into his skin, and Din swallowed, “...go easy in that area.”

A moment passed as Paz rubbed with careful pressure. “Going back to your original question: You’re not all that different. A little softer in your demeanor, perhaps, but just as loyal and strong within the Creed as before.” He stopped rubbing.

“You’re still you, Din.”

His throat tightened and he nodded. He’d wanted to ask that question for months now but couldn’t. Not when everyone who really knew him had been gone—either off-planet or dead. The last bit of that fact pulled hard at his heart. _How do you deal with the knowledge that a choice you made killed the majority of your tribe?_

Din could feel himself tensing up again and pushed away from the thought. Pressing his fingers into the sides of his knees, he gripped, letting his head hang forward as he focused on the feel of the massage. He was beginning to zone out when Paz murmured from behind.

“I remember your skin used to be a rich bronze under the sun on Mandalore. Even now, covered from head to toe for decades, you still look tanned.”

The statement was a perfect distraction from his previous thoughts, and Din latched onto it. Thinking about their past, his head drooped more. Relaxation edged its way in on him and he closed his eyes, responding, “Meanwhile, you had two settings: Pale and burnt.”

Paz stopped rubbing. “It’s annoying how accurate that is.”

Din grinned around a huff of amusement. Another short stretch of quiet passed between them before Paz asked, “Do you remember when we were together, before The Purge?”

Din didn’t think Paz was asking if he actually remembered, not as Cara had earlier. Paz knew his memory beyond a few months back was solid. Or at least that’s what they’d verified so far.

Paz was asking him to bring up the memory, and he did.

“Yes...”

“We were young soldiers in the Fighting Corp; mostly just fooling around with each other back then, but I don’t mind admitting to scrapping with a few who settled their visor on you for too long.” 

Staring at the doorway to the refresher, Din grinned, “Saying you were the jealous type is an understatement.”

Paz leaned closer, the corner of his mouth brushing against his ear as he growled, “You _loved_ it.” 

Din didn’t respond, and Paz squeezed a little harder. He was flirting with the point where his out-of-whack nervous system would freak from the pressure and lock down the muscle. He could feel it building, threatening to go off when Paz’s grip backed off. The point he had teetered with so precariously relaxed again as he openly taunted, _“Didn’t you?”_

To say the casual back rubdown had tipped toward intimate teasing, well, Din couldn’t argue that point. Neither could he argue the challenge the heavy gunner proposed. Swallowing around a dry throat, he noticed his heart pounding in his chest.

“Yes,” admitted Din while choosing to leave out the part about also loving how Paz had pummeled the Mando, declaring Din _his_ before grabbing him and stuffing him down the nearest alley so he could shove a hand down Din’s pants to jerk him off fast and hard. 

Paz hummed in response. The deep baritone reverberated in the chest behind him and Din felt it seep straight into him. His mind brought him back to times in their past where they would lie together naked and warm, Paz’s chest against him from behind, holding him close as he casually spoke about anything of interest at that moment. The deep rumbling tone of his voice working through Din like a balm, calming him. Having the other man curled around him, holding him almost uncomfortably snug, it had made Din feel safe.

He’d give almost anything to feel that safe again.

“Huh.”

Paz’s sound of contemplation drew him from his thoughts and he realized the work of the Mandalorian’s hands moving over him had shifted from kneading muscles to tender strokes and touches. Relaxed beyond the point of words, Din closed his eyes and gave himself over to the moment as he responded. 

“Hm?”

“I just realized something.”

“What.”

Strong hands gripped his biceps, squeezing, and Paz told him, “Those years we were fooling around with each other, it was after swearing the Creed—almost a decade afterward.” Paz stroked his thumbs over his muscles, “And, I was thinking just now about… as many times as I fucked you into next week, I’ve never properly kissed you.” 

Din’s eyes snapped open. 

He was quiet as Paz stroked over his arms once more. Swallowing, he dredged up the courage to respond and found his throat even drier than before. He tried it again, but his voice was still rusty as he spoke his next four words.

“Would you like to?”

Paz’s chin hovered behind his shoulder, the tip of his nose brushing behind Din’s ear as he breathed him in. His flesh raised with goosebumps as Paz’s warm breath ghosted past his ear _. “Yes.”_

_“Okay.”_

Staring straight ahead, Din had whispered his consent almost on reflex. It had come to him as easily as breathing. Being wrapped in Paz’s arms was familiar and right. Becoming intimate with him again felt almost like they were picking up where they’d left off before the galaxy went to hell, dragging them along with it.

So, when Paz nudged behind his ear again, Din tilted his head to the side. His breath stuttered in his lungs as Paz’s lips landed on the side of his neck, sucking hard. He pulled back, the soft sound touching Din deep within.

The warmth of Paz’s lips, the feeling of his teeth scraping his skin roused something inside. Emotion pulsed through him, hot and raw. Paz’s mouth captured the tender flesh of his ear and Din closed his eyes. His feelings surged as something began to stir. He wondered if the part waking was the part of himself he thought he’d suffocated in the darkness of his soul.

Paz pulled away from his ear and then his arms were wrapping around him, holding him close, and Din clued into the tears streaming down his face. He was crying and never even realized it.

Nuzzling against his hair, Paz murmured, _“Beroya...”_ The tenderness in his tone made Din’s breath hitch, and the large Mandalorian hugged him, kissing his jaw. “Talk to me.”

Din didn’t know if he could. How could he explain what he felt when he barely understood it himself? How did he tell the person loving on him that he felt empty, used up, and thoroughly depleted?

He couldn’t find the words and just shook his head.

Paz shifted around from behind until he was sitting in front of him. Din looked down as Paz rubbed along his arms, soothing him, “Din, talk to me _.”_

He needed this, to feel something, even if it was tearing him in two. It was better than the void of nothingness he’d become. His soul had found a light in the man in front of him. Racing toward it was breaking him in two. Yearning to become whole again, he tried to find a way to explain. 

Blinking forced hot tears to roll down his face, and Din swallowed. Voice tight, he had to steady the words as he spoke low, “I don’t feel like I’m living. It’s more like I’m just... existing somewhere between numb and useless.”

Paz didn’t respond, just squeezed his arms, giving him time. Drawing in a shaky breath, Din said, “I just… I think I’ve been walking around half-dead on the inside for a long damn time.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he continued, “But, being with you now...” he sighed, shrugging a shoulder, “I don’t know, it’s like I can feel parts of myself I thought were dead and...” Din closed his eyes, “...and I want it back—all of it. I just... I need to feel again.” 

Cupping Din’s chin, Paz tipped his face upward.

He opened his eyes and found himself caught in Paz’s piercing blue gaze. Brow pinched over a frown of concern and compassion, he just stared at Din for a moment. It was a stare he’d come to know well, even when it had gone into hiding behind the visor of a blue helm. 

Holding Din’s jaw in his large hand, Paz didn’t speak a word before he leaned in, closing his mouth around Din’s.

Dragging in a startled breath, a silent, broken sob tore from him. Paz breathed it in and swallowed it down as he inched closer, narrowing the gap between them until the bend of his knee rested against Din’s thigh.

Din’s breathing was shaky as he touched Paz’s face, first with one hand, then with the other. He pushed more into the kiss and Paz wrapped him in a one-armed hold, squeezing as he drew him against himself. A soft growl rumbled deep in the man’s throat as his lips pulled at his mouth, hard and wanting.

Din felt lightheaded, and for once it had nothing to do with the brain injury.

Taking him with, Paz held him as he moved them further up in the bed. Facing each other as they lay, neither spoke a word as Paz framed his face with his hands. His thumbs stroked through the forgotten wetness on his cheeks and he inched closer. Closing his eyes, Paz kissed his forehead, then the crown of his head.

Din felt the easy smile tugging the corner of his mouth and he raised his eyes. Paz was already looking back. Touching their foreheads together, his tone was quiet and soothing as he spoke.

“I think I know a little about what you’re talking about. I’ve...” Looking away, he thought, then shrugged, “I’ve undergone a stint of time within a similar kind of darkness.”

Din blinked up at the man, astounded. He never mentioned the dark he’d felt.

Paz gave him a knowing smile. It was kind and patient as he said, “I understand. And I think I can help with that if you want. It’s a process, and it’s not going to be solved right now, but if you talk to me—if you trust me, I think we can get it figured out.”

Eyes burning, Din closed them as he nodded.

A rich hum sounded between them as Paz leaned in again, kissing him and holding him tight. It was like trying to catch his breath while underwater and Din let down his defenses, giving himself over to the one person who used to know him inside and out.

This new intimacy between them, the incredible sensation of being touched, kissed, and being able to return the sentiment, relaxed him into a state of quiet calm, and the fatigue followed close behind. Being physically, spiritually, and emotionally drained, Din was trying to keep up, but his eyes kept closing on him.

The arm behind his neck tightened, rousing him. Opening his eyes, Din found himself looking at the hollow of Paz’s throat as the man stretched over him, kissing his head one more time. He was about to apologize when Paz’s gaze dropped down and landed on him, “You should rest.”

Din’s lips curved upward as his eyes closed. Looking up again, he argued, “But that’s not as much fun.”

A wide smile showed off Paz’s teeth as he countered with, “You’ve had a hell of a day. As it is, we’re damn lucky the panic attack didn’t trigger a spastic episode to rival the one from the other day.”

He wasn’t wrong, and Din nodded with a sigh of resignation. Paz looked concerned as he gazed down at him and Din told him, “Relax. I’m okay.”

A huff of humor passed through the guy, “I believe you tried that one on me the day I dragged you off Jakku.” Paz smiled, “I also believe I pointed out that you were parsecs from okay.”

Din grinned. “Yes, though I’m narrowing the gap.”

“That you are.” Paz’s fingertip brushed past the slight curl of hair touching his ear. Sliding it behind, he offered, “How about you let me finish working that spot on your back.”

Din looked up, “You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to. I’m asking if you would like me to.”

Din was quiet as he searched over Paz, reading his expression.

Cupping the back of his jaw, the heavy gunner leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Din’s eyes closed, the tenderness of the action stretched into a few seconds before Paz pulled back to speak against his lips, “Tell me what you want, Din.”

Swallowing, Din looked back up at him. _“Elek, gedet’ye.”_

Paz gave him a nod. “Think you can lay on your stomach?”

Din shook his head, “Not tonight.”

“Side?”

_“Lek.”_

_“Jate.”_ Pushing himself up, Paz knelt beside him and extended a hand, beckoning, _“Shaadlar.”_

Smirking at the brash order, Din accepted the offered assistance and rolled onto his side. Paz’s hands landed on his back, mapping the muscles pulled taut before beginning their magic again. The burning tightness began to release, the relief of it sent him drifting.

“Can we talk about the sigil for a second, or is it too much for tonight?”

Hugging a pillow against himself, Din spoke into it as Paz worked the muscles around his spine, “We can talk about it.”

A beat passed, then Paz asked, “Will you let me paint it on your helm?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He could picture Paz nodding as he replied, “Okay, that’s fair.”

Silence settled around them again and Din let it persist for a little while before asking, “Knowing what you know... are you certain I deserve it?”

The hands stopped. Paz’s voice was near as he asserted, “Without one fucking doubt.”

Din sighed, and Paz challenged, “Were you wounded in battle?”

“Yes.”

“Did you fight in that battle to preserve the life of your foundling?”

Din swallowed, “...yes.”

Paz threw in a curveball by asking, “Do you trust me, Djarin?”

Opening his eyes, Din’s response was just as automatic as when Paz had asked if he wanted to be kissed. “Yes.”

“I don’t lie, Din.”

“I know.”

“Then believe me when I say: Yes. There can be no doubt that the injuries you sustained protecting your son earned you the right to wear that sigil.”

Din stared ahead as Paz started working his back again. He looked across the room, but he wasn’t seeing it. He was too caught up in his thoughts. Paz had asked if he trusted him, and he’d spoken the truth when he’d told him, yes. Just like Paz claimed to have no doubt in Din deserving the sigil, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he trusted Paz.

He needed to think more about accepting the sigil, but maybe there was something to it. Maybe it wasn’t as complicated as he was making it. _Maybe_ Paz had been right when he said he’d conditioned himself and was just going through those motions instead of taking a moment to pull up and think.

Din wasn’t entirely sure right then. Exhaustion was shutting down his thought processing, and he decided it could wait. It would have to because he was already drifting off again. Silently massaging, Paz didn’t talk anymore as he worked, and Din let his consciousness wander.

* * *

It was hours later when Din woke. 

Lying on his side, he felt disoriented as he blinked through the darkness. It seemed like just a moment ago, the lights had been burning as Paz massaged him. Now, everything was quiet and dark. Wincing at the ache in his hip and shoulder, Din wondered how long ago he’d crashed.

The thick weight of a blanket that wasn’t there before shifted over him as he tilted back, away from the soreness settling into his side. Interrupted by an unexpected wall of warmth behind him, Din froze as movement clued him into the arm draped over his waist. It tightened the hold on him and Din tilted back a little to find Paz curled around him under the blanket.

Lounging behind him, the heavy gunner drew his legs closer when Din moved, slotting them against the back of his thighs. Paz held him snug against himself as his sleep-heavy voice murmured, “Sleep, _cyare.”_

Din took a moment, then finished easing himself against Paz. Adjusting the blanket over them, Din caressed the arm embracing him. Moving his hand from elbow to wrist, he found Paz’s hand. Slotting their fingers together, he smiled as the larger grip closed around his.

Shutting his eyes, Din was still smiling as he drifted off again, feeling safer than he had in decades.

_TBC_

**Mando’a Translations:**

Baa’ur—medic

Buy’cese—helmets

Beroya—bounty hunter

Verd—soldier

Vod—brother

Vor’e—thanks

Jate—good

Lek—yeah

Jate aalar?—Feel good?

Elek, gedet’ye—Yes, please.

Shaadlar—move

Cyare—beloved


	5. Kyramla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din and Paz take their relationship to a new level and we get our first real look at Din's interaction with the service droid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I hate how long it took to get this chapter out. I’ve been dealing with some medical issues that make it difficult to get on with my usual adult responsibilities, let alone being able to sit down and write. The good news is that we might be starting to have an idea of what the problem is. If so, I hope to be able to devote more time to my stories. 
> 
> You all have been so kind and patient, and I thank you. ♥️

**Kyramla**

[keer-AHM-la]

The light of a new day had fallen over Nevarro a couple of hours ago. Paz had been awake for only the last thirty minutes of it, and he’d spent that time thinking things over as he watched Din sleep.

Waking up, he’d found Din tucked in beside him, the _beroya’s_ forehead pressed against his chest. Taking in the state of the dark wavy hair standing up at odd angles, Paz grinned.

Outside the hut, the township was waking up as the noises of people beginning their day wafted through the walls. It all seemed reasonably mundane until an ungodly racket drew his eyes to the shade covering the window.

Two men began to argue as a stream of profanity launched back and forth over whose fault it was that the cart had overturned. A mix of hollow and deep thuds joined in the disturbance as they then began to argue over how to reload the cart properly.

Paz glanced down at Din snoozing away still. It was out of character for him, and thinking of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, he would bet an entire vat of Merruc's _tiingilar_ that today was going to be one of the _beroya’s_ low-energy days. 

Testing the theory, Paz took a chance at passing his palm over the man’s dark hair. Smoothing it down as his hand moved over Din’s head, a silent chuckle pushed from him at how the rioting waves sprang back to retake their unruly positions.

At first, he’d thought Din utterly unaware of his ministrations, but then the man shifted. Moving closer, his front pressed flush to Paz’s and he grumbled against his shirt.

“No teasing before breakfast.”

Paz’s smile widened. Slipping his arm under Din’s neck, he held him close while stroking a hand over his head again—that time not so subtly.

Pillowing his head on Paz’s chest, Din flung an arm over his side, making it clear that neither of them would be getting out of bed anytime soon.

Tucking the dark head under his chin, Paz asked, “What time are we supposed to get the wolf?”

Din released a sound somewhere between a groan and a hum before mumbling into his chest, “Eleven. What time is it now?”

Paz moved to lean back and grab his bracer when the arm over his side clamped down, a grumbling noise of protest rising between them.

He looked down. “If you want to know the time, _beroya_ , you need to let me check.”

Another grumble of disagreement surfaced, then the restricting hold was released.

Rolling onto this back, Paz stretched out his arm and snagged his vambrace. Rotating it, he read the digital display. “08:24.”

Din grunted an acknowledgment as Paz moved back onto his side, “Plenty of time.” The reply had barely been uttered before Din twitched against him, already drifting back off to sleep.

While Paz wouldn’t quite classify it as having an abundance of free time before their appointment, he was also okay about closing his eyes again for a short while. The bed was comfortable and with how warm Din felt in his arms, he was in no rush to start the day.

* * *

The next time Din woke, it was to the sound of his name being called.

Last he knew, he was tangled in Paz’s embrace, asking him about the time. He couldn’t even be sure if he’d gotten an answer before falling back asleep.

What he _was_ sure of though, was that he was hard as fuck and... _rutting against Paz?_

Din didn’t get much time to process whether or not he should be embarrassed. Not when Paz’s large hand splayed across his lower back as the gesture was returned.

And, holy fuck, it felt amazing.

A blaze of want ignited in him. Mind fuzzy and still lagging, Din arched forward on instinct, his throbbing cock seeking friction and touch. He found it as his hips pushed forward, rubbing against Paz’s hardness, punching out a tense breath from them both.

Paz’s hand clamped down over the side of his hip, “Din...” The sound of his name came across as both wanting and in warning.

Tipping his face up, his nose brushed the man’s jawline as he leaned in to suck hard against Paz’s pulse point. “Don’t stop.”

Hugging him closer, Paz’s breath left him on a soft gasp before asking, “You sure?”

Pressing his front against Paz, Din rocked his hips forward, grinding against the other man. “Positive.”

Something seemed to snap in Paz then as he drew Din against himself, practically _growling_ while shifting him onto his back. Paz’s mouth landed over his, drawing out a startled moan as his weight settled against him.

Like the night before, the sensory reward was like a flood to the system, drowning him in endorphins. It was like having a living weighted blanket covering him as a wave of calm surged through him. The only thing Din cared about at that moment was how good it felt to _feel—_ to feel Paz’s lips pulling against his, the way he rutted against Din’s hip, how his hands framed his face; one moving to cradle the back of his jaw as the other pushed through his hair...

It was almost too incredible to process. So, he stopped trying and allowed himself just to let go.

Giving the Mandalorian in bed with him the green light, Din laid there, taking in all the touches roaming over his body. Both light and intense as they moved down his sides, brushing between where their bodies pressed together and up over his stomach.

There was a moment of pause then Paz pushed his arms up, guiding them to lay against the pillow behind his head. Kissing him like he needed it to breathe, Paz dragged his palms back down over Din’s chest, rucking up his shirt.

Arms resting behind his head, Din briefly considered his position, finding it curious how okay he felt about how it practically screamed willful submission. Biting his lip, he watched as Paz leaned back, drinking in everywhere his fingers touched. Thumbs stroked over his nipples and Din’s eyes slid shut as an electric jolt of pleasure shot straight to his cock.

Hips arching upward, he panted Paz’s name.

A deep rumbling sound rose from the other man as he laid beside Din in the bed again, taking one of the hands behind his head. Squeezing it, Paz kissed his temple as he reached behind the waistband of his sleep pants, finding him hard and aching to be touched.

Groaning through the pleasure, Din forced himself not to give in to the whine trying to escape as he pushed through the warmth of the large grip holding him. Breathing through another groan, Din turned to face Paz.

He was greeted with a piercing stare full of desire, and within it, he found the sparks of a past love.

Din swallowed down something that felt like a whimper and closed his eyes as his cock jerked in response to Paz’s stroking touch. Pushing through his grasp again, Din shoved the hulking Mandalorian leaning over him onto his back.

The gunner went willingly. Refusing to surrender his hold on him, he brought Din with him. That was fine because Din just shoved his pelvis against Paz as he smashed their mouths together while reaching, giving the man a nice healthy grope.

Paz exhaled a moan, and as Paz did for him last night, Din breathed it in and swallowed it down.

Switching from groping to grabbing, Din reached inside Paz’s boxers and pulled him out. Sucking on the tongue that slipped into his mouth, Din stroked over him hard and fast, just like Paz had done to him in that alley on Mandalore after fucking laying claim to him when they were young.

Grunting hard, Paz broke away from the kiss to hiss through bared teeth. _“Manda,_ Din. You keep doing that, and you’re going to have me cumming in seconds.”

Din only hummed in response as he drew the man’s earlobe past his lips and sucked. The small movement made Paz groan, and Din moved higher, tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue.

An unexpected snicker burst from beneath, the heavy gunner shrugging his shoulder toward his ear.

Pulling back, Din grinned down at him. “Really?”

Paz shrugged, “I guess so.”

“Never tried that before?”

His light eyebrows drew together as he blinked up at him. “I... haven’t done any of this before, without the helm.”

The softness of a sudden warmth bloomed inside him as he stared down at Paz. His debatably-aggressive movements over the man’s length backed off to tender fingertip strokes as he thought back to when Paz had first urged him to remove his helmet. Fighting to breathe during a spastic episode, Din had listened as Paz tried to assure him other Ways existed before divulging how he’d already bared his face to others in the past.

Now, for some reason, Din had assumed he’d also removed it in times of past sexual encounters. Because, why not? Knowing that this was just as new to Paz as it was to him, the level of trust and intimacy that knowledge brought to the table was profound. He didn’t have the words to express how that made him feel, so he showed it instead.

Leaning forward, Din brushed the tip of his nose alongside Paz’s before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Touching the man’s face, Din stroked his thumb over the back of his jaw as the kiss was returned, just as tender.

Holding his dick still, Paz rubbed over the tip, and Din’s eyes slipped shut. A large hand palmed the back of his neck, drawing him forward, and Din went where he was led.

His mouth pulled against Paz’s, his tongue slipping through parted lips as he was laid back against the pillows again. Paz’s grip landed on his waist, and then his pants were tugged down. Lifting his hips, Din evened the score with the gunner’s boxers.

Paz leaned over him, kissing him long and slow as his large grip engulfed both their cocks and squeezed. That time, he couldn’t hold back the whimper as he arched forward, his dick rutting against Paz’s. He got another one of those delicious low, rumbling groans in return and Din laid his hand over the other man’s, holding them both as they moved together.

Somewhere outside the walls of this borrowed hut, residents of Nevarro were going about their normal activities while Din was swallowed whole by a feeling he hadn’t experienced in forever. The touches, the motions, the kissing, all of it was too soft and gentle to classify as just lustful sex.

This, what they were caught up in, it was something else. Whether they were just picking up where they left off so long ago, or if they were becoming something more... he wasn’t sure. But the way Paz slipped his free arm behind his neck, holding him close as the pad of his thumb rubbed through the silky beads of their precum, the word _love_ kept burning in the back of his mind.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t make that jump yet. Which left him wondering: If this was too meaningful to be just sex, but he wouldn’t let himself consider it to be making love... What was it?

What did this mean?

Where were they headed?

Paz bulldozed the rest of his thoughts by engulfing the entirety of his ear into his mouth. His hot tongue swirled as he sucked, pumping their cocks hard.

A small cry pushed from Din as he thrust his hips forward, rocking hard into Paz’s hand.

Pulling off his ear, Paz kissed his temple, “Quit thinking.”

Din grinned while stretching through the strong touch, “Were my thoughts that loud?”

Paz hummed. The deep sound reverberated through his chest and into Din, stoking the smoldering fire burning him from the inside out.

Looking down at him, Paz confirmed, “You could have carted around half of Naboo with the length of that thought-train.”

Din laughed, but half of it got sucked back into a gasp as Paz latched onto his throat. Sucking hard, he pushed through their grasps as he stroked them off. Din thought about the mark he was sure to be left with as the feel of the man’s teeth joined in, biting just enough to mix pain with pleasure. He became grateful for his cowl for an entirely new reason.

Paz sped up his motions, bringing them both dangerously close to reaching the finish line. He was about to warn Paz, telling him to slow down before he blew his load all over them both, but then the guy went and breathed a lewd moan against his neck. The sound of Paz beginning to lose control, feeling him coming apart as he swelled and throbbed in his hold, blasted that smoldering fire inside of Din into a raging blaze.

Squeezing them in his hand, Din couldn’t stop himself as he thrust his hips hard, rocking his cock through their combined grip. The pressure of Paz’s squeeze increased as his lips landed over his mouth again. Kissing him hard, Paz moved with him, finding that finish line first.

Pulling away from the kiss, the gunner buried his face in the crook of Din’s shoulder, releasing a loud, grating groan. The warmth of Paz’s orgasm coated his stomach and that was it for Din. That fire in him exploded, and Din cried out from the intensity of it.

Paz collapsed beside him in the bed. Breathing heavy, Din could feel the evidence of their release cooling against his skin as his heart tried to remember how to beat in a regular rhythm.

At some point, Paz seemed to recover as Din felt the bed move, then the warmth of the heavy gunner’s body disappeared.

Cracking his eyes open, Din flung out an arm to stop him from getting up, but he was about two moves behind as the guy was already walking into the refresher. Closing his eyes again, Din heard the faucet. Then time seemed to skip as the feeling of a warm cloth on his stomach registered within his lazy mind.

Din looked up at Paz, and he got a smile in return.

Chucking the cloth back into the fresher, Paz climbed back under the covers, his head coming to rest on his chest.

Wrapping Paz in his embrace, he ran his fingers through the man’s short blonde strands, smiling as the guy released a satisfied kind of relaxed sigh. An arm flopped over his stomach, tugging him closer as Paz wrapped around him.

Resting his cheek to the top of Paz’s head, he released his own slow exhale, “As much as I hate to, we need to get up.” He got a mumble of disagreement, and Din smiled wider, “We’re probably going to be late as it is.”

“Why? What time is it?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Then how could you _possibly_ know that we’re going to be late?”

“Comparing what time it was before we fell back asleep, knowing one typical sleep cycle lasts for ninety minutes—”

“You know how long a sleep cycle is.”

The statement was delivered borderline accusatory, and Din glanced down. “You don’t?”

A nasally huff got breathed against his neck as Paz nuzzled closer, “I think it’s a safe bet most ordinary people don’t.”

His retort was simple. “I’m not ordinary.”

“Quite true.”

Din smiled, then picked up where he’d left off, “...factor in the time we just spent...”

“Reconnecting.”

His smile spread into a grin. _“Reconnecting,_ we’ll be lucky if it’s not already eleven o’clock.”

A deep sigh pushed hard from Paz, and Din knew he agreed. Then the man confirmed this by saying, “Yeah, okay. Fine. Next time, though—”

Din looked down, _“Next_ time?”

Thrusting an elbow under himself, Paz raised and nailed him with a look, _“Next time...”_ Din got a kiss. “...no rush to get up afterward.”

Paz-needling, a favorite hobby from his youth, was something Din had missed out on for far too long. Falling back into old habits between the two of them was becoming more comfortable, and he cocked an eyebrow, “You telling me you’re a cuddler, Vizsla?”

A mocking snort pushed from Paz as he shoved himself over Din and out of bed. Offering down a hand-up, the man retorted, “Like you’re not.”

* * *

Sitting in the back of a land speeder, a squeal from his kid drew Din’s focus away from the road ahead to where the baby sat nestled against Paz’s chest. The ride from Cara’s office to the lab with the top down was a complete thrill for the child, and Din already had plans to take the boy for a ride with the Phoenix—just as soon as his back could tolerate it.

Leaning over the gunner’s forearm, his son’s large ears fluttered back against a blue breastplate as he grinned. Noticing he had Din’s attention, the child laughed, reaching out a claw toward him.

His kid was a pure adrenaline junkie.

_They were so screwed..._

Taking the baby’s tiny hand in his own, Din smiled at him.

Grinning wider, like he could somehow see the smile hidden behind the helm, his kid turned back into the wind, repeatedly slapping his other hand down over Paz’s vambrace as they closed in on Dr. Neraim’s laboratory.

The day’s initial plan was to meet with the programmer and _then_ pick up the baby from Cara’s. However, after further discussion, they decided to have the child there during this dry-run diagnostic test with the wolf. That way, if they noticed any questionable behavior from the droid, it could be addressed right then.

It made them a little bit late to the appointment, but the programmer had been kind, agreeing that it was a good idea to have the baby present.

The land speeder came to a halt in front of Dr. Neraim’s laboratory. And, even though Din was feeling better since the attack a couple of weeks ago, he didn’t grouse when Paz offered him a steadying hand as he climbed over the side of the vehicle.

According to Lant, the swelling around his spinal cord had resolved itself entirely, leaving him to deal with the setback the damage had caused. It had negated a solid chunk of what he’d worked hard to achieve before that day on Jakku, and that had been beyond frustrating.

Letting Paz support him now while he held his kid, the thought passed through Din’s mind that at least he wasn’t alone this time as he recovered while trying to watch over both himself and his son.

Din waited for Paz to pay the driver, then turned with him as they walked up to the small porch and entered the lab. Like yesterday, they were met by the sight of an assortment of service droids in various stages of completion.

Dr. Neraim looked up from her work at the large table in the center of the room. Wearing a line of studded earrings along the outside edge of her pointed ears, the Bothan had her long silver hair pulled into the same type of braided bun, once again piled on top of her head. Laying down a tangled pile of mechanics, she greeted them with a kind smile, “Welcome!”

Rounding the stone table, her lab coat billowed out in the wake of her swift strides as she came to meet them at the door. Din gave her a single nod, “Dr. Neraim.”

She took the hand he offered, shaking it as her other hand landed on the side of his arm with a delicate touch. “Din, hello again.” Neraim looked over his shoulder, smiling at Paz as he shut the door, “It’s good to have both you and the baby here with Din today.”

Kyramla was lying on the stone floor, but when Din stepped into the room, her head popped up before she was on her feet, walking over to greet them. Unlike yesterday, she was wearing a black harness that went halfway down her back with small side pockets and a low-profile handle situated just behind her shoulders.

The white wolf stopped in front of him. Sitting, the top of her head came to around his waist as she tipped up her snout, sniffing at the baby in his arms. Din greeted her with a hand to her head, giving a light rub behind one of her pointed ears as the baby leaned over his arm, cooing and reaching for the wolf.

Looking up at the baby, Kyramla made a mouthy kind of grumble then licked his little green hand.

His _ad_ squealed, cackling downward at her, and Din eased himself into a crouch to set the baby on the floor. The droid laid down in front of them. Resting her chin on her paws, her eyebrows bounced up and down over her purple eyes as she watched the baby approach.

Paz came to stand beside them as Din scooted closer, shadowing the child with a protective hand as the little one cooed, touching the wolf on the side of her muzzle.

Bending at the waist, the baby looked sideways at her and a large pink tongue slipped between her jaws to catch him with a quick lick.

Laughing, the boy draped himself over her face, saying something in a soft string of babble. Kyramla plopped on her side, taking him with her as she rolled onto her back. Laying across her throat, the child looked past the fluffy fur up to Din, grinning. 

Standing beside them, the Bothan smiled as she remarked, “Looks like these two will become fast friends.”

Din’s eyebrows raised behind the visor of his helmet as he gave the two on the floor a tilt of his head. Watching the fluffy white tail beating against the floor as the droid nuzzled the child, he replied, “Seems like it.”

Pushing back to his feet, he struggled a second. Paz started to take him by the arm to help, and the programmer held out a hand as she took a step forward.

“Wait.”

Sinking back to his knee, Din looked at the Bothan as she offered, “This is a good opportunity to allow Kyramla to do her job.”

Paz’s hand slipped from his arm as Dr. Neraim turned to the droid, “Kyramla, come.”

Looking at them, the wolf rolled to her side. The baby slid off her neck, and she got up.

Crouching down beside Din, the programmer patted the floor in front of him. “Kyramla: Brace.”

Din watched her pull up beside him, her long side to his front, and lowered down onto her belly. As large as she was, even lying down, her back leveled out with his midsection. Dr. Neraim looked at him.

“Okay, if you want her to help you to your feet, you use the Brace command. She’ll line up in front of you like this, and you’ll grip the handle with one hand and press the flat of your other hand over her back.”

He did as instructed, and the Bothan said, “Now, when you’re ready, tell her: ‘Kyramla, up,’ and she’ll slowly stand, bringing you with her.”

Moving closer, Din adjusted his grip on the handle, then looked at the service droid and gave his first command.

The wolf craned her head around, seeming to check him, then began to stand up. Neraim stood close, spotting him through the maneuver as he used the droid for stability, quickly pushing himself back to his feet.

It took a second to get his back to straighten out completely. Still, he had to admit, as much as he appreciated the help Paz had been offering, not having someone else stepping in to assist gave him a feeling of control over his injury.

Leaning against the large table in the center of the room, Paz looked at Din, giving him a nod of silent affirmation as the programmer stood beside him.

“How’d that feel? Did she move well enough—prefer her to go slower or faster, just let me know, and I can tweak her settings.”

Kyramla was looking up at him, panting. _Was it possible for a wolf to look pleased?_ He gave her another scratch behind the ear and she leaned into his hand.

A small smile tugged at his mouth as he replied, “She moved just fine.”

“Good.” Clasping her hands, the Bothan asked, “Ready to go through a few mock scenarios? That way, I can fine-tune her preliminary programming.” 

Dropping his hand from the wolf’s head, Din turned to face the programmer, “Sure.”

“Very good.” Neraim took a few steps over to the stone table. Leaning, she stretched to snag a datapad. Swiping across the screen with a stylus, she said, “Kyramla is already in diagnostic mode, and I can quickly make modifications as we work. So, don’t hesitate to speak up about anything you’d like adjusted.”

Din glanced over at Paz, watching him lower a hand to the baby who was busy climbing the side of his leg. The Bothan crossed in front of them. Walking back, she took a chair from the workbench and set it beside Din.

“Please, have a seat, and we’ll begin by initiating her reaction to an anxiety attack.”

Paz jutted his helm in their direction, “How will Kyramla be able to tell if Din’s anxiety goes on the rise?”

Dr. Neraim turned a step to face the heavy gunner, “As with any living creature, when there is about to be a change to their homeostatic baseline, systems within the body begin sending messages back and forth. Pheromones are secreted, and the service droid picks up on them, in turn, alerting to the building attack.”

Din asked, “How will she know which issue she’s alerting to, especially if she senses it before I even feel like something’s wrong?”

The programmer turned back to Din. Sitting down had put him at eye level with her small stature as she explained.

“It will be a combination of a few things: Analyzing the current environment, your heart rate and breathing, along with the elements she picks up in your pheromones. I’ll admit. It’s not an exact science. It’s damn close, but not a hundred percent. There is always a chance that she will give an alert, but you might not suffer from what she’s trying to tell you. This will mostly resolve itself as she gets to know you by analyzing your tells and the types of situations that tend to provoke an attack.”

“Makes sense.”

Neraim’s black lips pulled upward, fine lines layering into the brown fur covering her cheeks as she smiled. Looking down, she swiped the stylus across the screen of the datapad.

“Okay. Let’s get started.”

Kyramla had been sitting beside Paz, the guy scratching under her chin as her bushy tail swished back and forth over the stone floor. The programmer tapped the device, and the wolf turned away from Paz, looking to Din.

“So, right now, I’m simulating a rise in your heart rate.”

The droid walked up to him and looked him over.

“Now a breathing pattern common in times of elevated stress.”

Din watched as the wolf stopped and looked at him before stepping between his legs. Pressing the top of her head against his chest, she leaned against him, and Din thought back to the literature he’d read over last night. The droid was trying to comfort him.

Thanks to the personality questionnaire they went over yesterday, Neraim was aware of how he acted out his anxiety when his mind started to spiral. Telling Din she’d conditioned Kyramla to react accordingly to his tells, she asked him to perform a few so the droid would interact.

Looking down at her, Din jiggled his knee up and down in nervous movement, and her large head laid down over his thigh. When he began wringing his hands, the wolf shoved her head between the loop of his arms, breaking his grip. Clenching his fists repeatedly, she batted at his hand, smacking it with her paw.

Every action by the droid had been meant to be an interruption, breaking into the loop of racing thoughts and helping him to pull out of their hold.

At the end of the exercise, Neraim tapped her data screen, provoking the wolf to see that none of her actions had helped, and Kyramla took things a step further. Walking her front paws up into his lap, she leaned against his front, nudging the side of his helm with her muzzle.

Her chin came down over his shoulder and the feeling of her weight leaned against him combined with the warmth of her body had Din closing his eyes. It was nice, and his hands seemed to move on their own accord as he stroked down her sides.

Kyramla responded to his actions by nuzzling alongside his helmet with the same deep, mouthy grumble she gave his kid a little while ago, and Din smiled.

The baby waddled up to them with a sweet-sounding coo, and Paz moved like he was going to intercept, but the Bothan put up a hand, smiling.

“It’s okay, let him go. He won’t interfere—watch.”

Din glanced down at his _ad_ as he walked up to the wolf’s hind leg. Stroking a green claw down her white fur, he called up to them, tilting his head. When Kyramla didn’t respond, he reached for her tail and gave it an experimental round of tugs. Still being denied attention, his kid got impatient and started smacking her hind leg with a warbly shout. The droid remained pressed to Din through it all, her chest moving against his breastplate with the same slow, steady breaths.

Getting shut out by his new friend, his kid shifted his attention to Din, reaching for him.

Neraim gestured to Paz, “See, Kyramla will remain focused on Din until she senses he’s feeling better, like... Now—”

The programmer tapped the screen of her device and the wolf relaxed. Shooting Din a quick look, she slid down, shifting until her front legs draped across his lap as she sat on the floor.

Din reached down and pulled the child into his arms, the baby automatically draping an arm around his neck. Clutching the back of his cowl, his little head tilted as he stared downward at Kyramla. A few lines of baby talk got directed her way, and then he looked back at Din. His large brown eyes blinked as he pointed down at the droid, whining in question.

A crooked smirk pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth, “Don’t take it personally; she was busy.”

Switching up the scene, Neraim had Kyramla see they were then in the _Crest_ as a migraine hit, and Din held onto his _ad,_ working with the wolf as she helped him to the floor.

As requested, he was lying back against the floor as the Bothan instructed, “Go ahead and ask her to get the meds you take when you feel a migraine coming.”

He did, and Kyramla took off across the room. Going to the bottom drawer of a desk, she bit down on a rope tied around the handle, pulling back on it. The drawer opened, and diving in, she resurfaced with a couple of empty medpacks identical to his. Trotting back with them, she placed them in his palm then laid with her side pressed against him, offering him both support and protection while he was down. 

Up next on the Bothan’s diagnostic list was alerting for spasticity. Glancing over her datapad, she said, “When Kyramla senses an impending attack, she will sit in front of you and stare, a suggestion that an episode is coming and you should lie down—if it’s practical for where you are at the time.”

Neraim looked at Paz, “Standard protocol for all situations is to find you if you are near, alerting that Din might need assistance. For this exercise, please go into the next room; just until she comes for you.”

Pushing off the table’s edge without a word, the Mandalorian in blue armor left the room, and Neraim tapped the screen of her datapad.

Lying on the floor, Din watched as Kyramla raised her head and looked at him. She checked him over then sat beside him. Laying a paw on his arm, her purple eyes bore down on his visor for a beat. Grumbling, she tossed her head and stared at him again before taking off to find Paz.

Three quick barks came from the back room, then they both returned with Kyramla in the lead.

Neraim changed the simulation to indicate that Paz was not present, and again, the wolf sat and stared at Din. He asked her to bring him specific medications, and like with the migraine simulation, she followed through just fine.

Standing over him, the programmer looked down, “Do you ever experience trouble swallowing during these spastic attacks?”

“The bad ones, yes.”

“Let’s simulate that for her.”

Lying beside him, Kyramla scrambled back to her feet and stuck her nose under the bottom lip of his helm. Sniffing around a moment, she withdrew and wedged her snout between the back of his shoulder and the floor, working it forward until she could lift.

Pushing the flat of her head against his back and hips, she rolled him onto his side. Like with the migraine, when she’d done all that she could to help, she curled up against him until Paz arrived to take over.

Dr. Neraim concluded the event, and the wolf perked up. Tongue slipping over her open jaw, she started her lazy panting again.

Pushing himself up, Din sat on the floor and looked at his son, “Can you program her to retrieve anything?”

“I can. All I need is a visual to upload into her memory and the command to retrieve by the name you choose. So far, I have: Go get Paz; medicine; a pillow; blanket; comm link...”

“Can you add a command for her to get the baby?”

Her gaze narrowed as she zeroed in on what he wasn’t saying, “You’re talking about if you can’t get to him, such as, you’re locked up from a spastic episode or if vertigo has you knocked down.” 

“Yes.”

The programmer was already on the move, “Certainly.” Setting down her datapad on the workbench, she pulled her chair up to her computer.

“In fact...” He looked up at where Paz was holding the baby. The child’s small hand slapped the bottom of his blue helm and the gunner snapped his head back with exaggerated force.

The baby laughed as Din asked, “Can we take it one step further? If I’m alone with the baby when something happens, can she be programmed to automatically get the child and keep him near me until I say, or until Paz shows up?”

Clicking away at her keyboard, she smiled, “Absolutely.”

Din looked back at Paz and got a nod of agreement, “Good call, _beroya.”_

Returning the gesture, Din smiled behind his helm. He didn’t have a say over the complications from his injuries nor what going through them did to him, but he _could_ control how the droid assisted him when he needed it. In a roundabout way, Kyramla was putting him back in control of his life. 

Getting up from her computer, Neraim asked Paz if he would put the baby on the floor.

The heavy gunner crouched down, placing the _adiik’s_ small feet on the ground as the programmer called the wolf over, getting her to interact with the child. Once the two of them were busy getting to know each other again, Neraim stood, saying, “I needed a distraction for her, plus it’s good to see how they continue to interact.”

Din watched as Kyrmla plopped onto her side. Raising her head, she looked at the baby as he clutched handfuls of her white fur while scrambling to climb over her belly.

While the droid and the baby played, Neraim addressed Din again, “Are panic attacks the only time you disassociate?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I was betting on. Okay. So, if you are unable to stop the anxiety and end up disassociating, Kyramla will sit and speak to help bring you out of it. She’ll continue this until you touch her. What I’d like to do next is go through a scenario where you fail to respond.”

“Alright.”

“Now...” Tapping the stylus against her chin, her dark eyes narrowed in thought. “I know when you’re out and about, you cover up from head to toe, like now. However, if Kyramla knows you’re in a safe place, having skin contact would allow her to interrupt the episode more efficiently.”

Once again leaned against the workbench, Paz asked, “How will she get that contact if Din’s alone and suited up?”

“I have her programmed to pull off his gloves and cowl, the easiest areas for her to access.”

“She can do that?” asked Paz.

“Absolutely. It’s standard assistance coding for warriors in uniform.” She turned back to Din, “If you want, until your spinal injury heals completely, we can also add codes for her to assist with other things like helping you to remove your boots or greaves; things that require bending like picking up something from the floor. Anything along those lines.”

Din paused at that. “Really?”

Hugging her datapad to her chest, Neraim nodded, “There are many possibilities in how she can make things easier on you as you recover.”

Din just nodded in return. It was something he would consider. There were days he struggled more than others, and in his opinion, there wasn’t any good reason _not_ to expand her programming if it helped make the bad days better.

Holding the datapad against herself still, the programmer crouched down beside him, “Are you comfortable with Kyramla removing a few articles of your outfit for outside stimulation?”

He gave her a tilt of his head, “You’re the expert here. As long as it only happens in the few places that I listed yesterday, I’m okay with it.”

Neraim grinned and looked down at her device, “Okay. If you lie back down, I’ll cue her to react to an episode of dissociation where you don’t respond to her interruption tactics.”

Reclining back against the floor, Din looked at the wolf nudging her nose under the baby’s chin, then back to the programmer as she touched her stylus to the screen on her datapad.

At first, nothing happened as the droid continued with her mild interactions with the child. Then, her head popped up and she looked at him. Her purple gaze zeroed in as she sniffed the air, then she pushed to her feet, the baby giggling as he slid off her side onto the floor.

Walking to Din, Kyramla sniffed him up and down a couple of times. Sitting, she looked down at him and barked. Pawing at his arm, her nails scraped the material of his sleeve and she barked again while the baby walked over to join them.

Din laid still as the droid rooted her snout under his hand, turning it over. Gripping the edge of his glove in her front teeth, she pulled back until the snap on the inside of his wrist gave. There was a nibble at his fingertips, and then she started tugging until she pulled it from his hand.

Kyramla started licking his palm, and Din grimaced at the wetness. Not a fan of the sensation, he was reasonably sure that alone would be enough to drag him out of the deepest dissociative pit his brain could conjure. 

“Okay...” remarked the programmer as she swiped past a screen on the device. “That’s good, Din. Just remain quiet and still. Keep ignoring her so she’ll take it to the next level.”

Forcing himself not to sigh as the wolf continued licking and nudging her cold nose into his palm, he watched as she gave up. Stepping up to his head, she sniffed around his helmet then shoved her nose against his cowl.

His son began scrambling up the side of his cuirass as Kyramla breathed deep, chuffing breaths before going for the protective garment. Gathering the material in her teeth, she jerked her head to the side—kriffing _dragging_ him across the damned floor.

Din gave a startled yelp as the back of his helmet scraped the duracrete.

Paz and Neraim bolted forward while the baby grabbed his armor strap, cackling and enjoying the trip.

“Kyramla; drop!” ordered Neraim.

The wolf released his cowl, then plopped her rear on the floor beside his shoulder and looked down at him.

Holding the material at the side of his neck, Din gave the droid a side glance as he levered himself upward, asserting, “Okay; _that_ needs tweaking.”

Neraim dropped to her knees beside him, “Many apologies, Din.” She took him by his arms, “Are you alright?”

He raised a calm hand, “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Sitting back on her heel, Neraim shook her head as she started tapping the screen of her datapad while Paz took a knee at his other side.

Touching his shoulder, Paz’s grip increased slightly, “You sure, _beroya?_ That was quite a ride you just took.”

The vocoder in the helmet couldn’t override the concern present in the man’s voice, and Din smacked the gunner’s flank, “Just startled me some. I’m okay.”

The Bothan shook her head again, the light from her datapad shining against her face as she repeated herself, “Many apologies. That was entirely my fault. I had input the code from my last client—a trandoshan with catches that liked to be stubborn. The extra force was necessary. Plus, her cowl had a side closure. Yours does not.”

“No,” confirmed Din. “Mine closes at the back.”

“May I look?”

Din moved so she could see the back of his neck.

“I see.” She got up and went to her workbench. “Unlike your gloves, there isn’t anything for Kyramla to grasp. Are you willing to add a small nylon tab to the closure of your cowl?” Bringing one back with her, she passed it to Din.

About the size of the pad of his finger, the tab had a hinged clip where it could attach to the edge of the closure. Black and small, it would blend in well.

Handing it back, he told her, “Sure.”

Holding up the tab, she asked, “May I?”

He turned around again, and the Bothan freed a section of the velcro closure to attach the tab. Smoothing it back down, she asked, “How’s that feel?”

Din gave the front of his garment a test tug. It held firm. Running his hand over the back of the garment, his bare fingers brushed the tab placed at the base of his neck. The closure was complete, and Din looked at the programmer.

“It’s good.”

“I fixed Kyramla’s coding.” Din could see the embarrassment in her smile as she asked, “Trust me enough to try it again?”

Breathing out a sound of amusement, he answered, “Yes.”

The Bothan smiled easier then, patting his arm. Standing, she asked him to lie back down. “Go ahead and roll onto your side, and we’ll pick it back up from there.”

Din got back into position and the wolf walked around to his front, his _ad_ tutting behind her to supervise.

Kyramla sniffed and chuffed at his cowl again. He didn’t respond, and she walked back around—the baby swinging an arm as he trailed after her.

Just like before, feeling her nose at his neck set him slightly on edge. It was a knee-jerk reaction from decades of protecting the crucial area. Taking a breath, he forced calm upon himself as the tugging began, that time in the right place, and mercifully more gentle.

There came the ripping sound of velcro as the bottom pulled free. Kyramla’s mouth bumped against his neck again as she gathered the material with her teeth, pulling up. The closure released, and then through a series of light tugs, she pulled off his cowl.

Trotting back around to his front, she laid down in front of him. Growling through a soft yipping kind of bark, she leaned in and started licking his neck. It was a different sensation from his hand. He enjoyed it even less and, rolling onto his back, turned away with a grimace.

Jumping to her feet, Kyramla chased after him. Standing over him, her large wet tongue lapped at him like she was tenderizing him for her next meal until Din had enough and pushed her face away.

Stopping, she looked down at him, and Din wiped at his neck with a gloved hand, “That’s good; you got me.”

Plopping down, the wolf scooted forward as she crawled over the top of him. His breath left him with a groaning puff as the weight of her chest and head laid over him, trying to ground and soothe him through the end of the mock episode.

An interested coo sounded from the side as it appeared his kid figured more weight would be even better as he scrambled over Din’s side to reclaim his previous spot.

Touching the back of the child’s head, Din lifted his helmet and grumbled, “You think this is a dogpile or something?”

Paz’s warm chuckle sounded from above. Standing over them as he said, “You know how he likes to help.”

Neraim called off the wolf and Din sat up, his kid sliding down the _beskar_ and into his lap. He was still wiping away the wet sensation as the programmer handed him back his cowl. “Not a fan of the licking?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

Din tilted his visor up at her and she explained, “The unpleasant feeling of it will work well to distract your mind from the loop it’s stuck in, helping you to resurface faster.”

He used the wolf to get back to his feet and the Bothan added, “Though… over time, don’t be surprised if you find yourself not resenting the feel of it as much as you do now.” Din just looked at her, and she said, “The mind has a way of recognizing a helpful, if not unpleasant, sensation and processing it as a good thing.”

* * *

Back at the hut, Din waited for everyone to file into the one-room living space and closed the door.

Paz was already pulling off his helmet and walking straight to the bed, Din followed suit.

Crawling into the bed with a tired groan, he collapsed onto his side, smashing his face into the pillow.

The bed moved, and he figured it was Paz before the wolf plunked her ass down, curling up against him. Her head lay draped over the side of his leg as a miniature grunt, and then a tug of blankets told him the baby was joining the party.

Cracking an eye open, Din became aware of two things: The baby sitting on the pillow Paz had used last night, and then Paz standing at the side of the bed, taking in how the three of them took up every available inch.

Blue eyes skipping to meet brown, the heavy gunner declared, “This isn’t going to work, _beroya.”_

_Fin—for this installment._

_More to come._

**Mando’a Translations:**

_Adiik—_ child aged 3 to 13 (developmental age was referred to in this text)

 _Beroya—_ bounty hunter

 _Tiingilar—_ blisteringly spicy Mandalorian meal


End file.
